The Cliffs of Hertfordshire
by WadeH
Summary: It turns out that Mary Bennet does not care for being publicly humiliated by her father at the Netherfield Ball, and her reaction has far-reaching consequences. This story is moderately high angst, has a pretty bad beginning for the Bennets, and a long road to happiness., but it is several adventure stories in one along with the occasional bit of romance. (NOW COMPLETE - YAY!)
1. An Incident at Netherfield – Nov 26 1811

**_A/N: Welcome to my new story._** _It is now complete, and I would like to thank everyone that helped me along the way. It is novel length, and it's really several stories in one. It's an adventure story, a character study, and may even have a touch of romance here and there._

 _If you would like a spoiler, just post a review or send a PM and I'll reply. You can ask any questions you like that way. I also have a forum used for forum. See the button at the top of the screen that says Story with a down arrow. Click that and select Forums and then type in Cliffs Hertfordshire_.

 _Fair warning! This story is moderately high angst. The first half is quite intense with lots of trouble for our Bennet family so be prepared. There is also quite a bit of OOC behavior, mostly because it's a character study of how our characters react to stress, so naturally we need to apply some stress. It starts with an epic rant, but then goes in very different directions from my previous works. I hope you enjoy it, and would appreciate any feedback, via reviews or PM._

 _The story is complete but you will see reposts as I work my way through and clean up some of the text, before publication. I will not however be making substantial changes to the storyline._

 _As always, like all writers I love feedback of any kind so please review or PM me and let me know what you think._

 _Wade_

* * *

Everyone has a breaking point. Many, perhaps most, are blissfully unaware of this, and may even go through their entire lives without ever approaching close enough to sniff it out. The breaking point was like a cliff. You could come as close as you wanted so long as you never actually went over the side. Once you stepped or slipped or were pushed over, it was too late to undo it, too late to go back and enjoy the path through the woods, too late to choose a route that might keep you safe and dry. Some would, from time to time approach the cliff closely enough to be aware of how very close they were, and the great danger of falling off, but once again, retreat to the safety of solid ground; hopefully wiser and stronger. An unfortunate few see the cliff as a lure, and as a moth to a flame, they keep pushing their luck, edging closer and closer, once and again, until one day, they inevitably went over the side. Some traveled all the roads of their life blissfully unaware that there even was a cliff to worry about, and probably wouldn't recognize it if they did. Some, like our unfortunate girl find they've been walking beside someone else right next to the cliff for some time without being aware of it, when the find the ground drops out from under them through no fault of their own.

The Bennet sisters were young ladies that weren't even aware of the cliff, or how near they were to the edge. They all knew that they were a family long on daughters, and short on dowries; in a town that was long on competing daughters and short on agreeable suitors. They had their mother to remind them of their danger, but unlike a canary in a coal mine, Fanny Bennet was like a screeching eagle in a drawing room. After a while, you had to accustom yourself to her ways and ignore her; or succumb and be snatched up like a rabbit.

Such were things in Meryton, until the night of Mr. Bingley's ball at Netherfield, when a certain Miss Bennet reached her breaking point. Like any step over the cliff, the last step was not necessarily any larger than those that preceded it, but it took on more significance than its predecessors did.

Mary Bennet tried her very best to be a good daughter and sister, but it was difficult. Her father openly disdained all of the sisters except his two eldest favorites. Lizzy and Jane were like two peas in a pod. Nobody and nothing could break into their quite companionship. Her younger sisters Kitty and Lydia were essentially just two copies of Lydia, equally inseparable and equally disdainful of Mary.

Mary was the middle child, left out of anything and everything, included with nobody and nothing, so she struggled. She tried to make herself knowledgeable through reading, but her choice of reading material generated nothing but disdain. She tried to make herself accomplished through music, but her efforts at the pianoforte fell flat. She kept trying, because it was the only area where she had even a modicum of talent, but with no encouragement or instruction she was bound for disappointment. The nearly last straw was when her cousin came looking or a wife. Her cousin was a parson… a parson, just the type of man that would most suit her; and her mother shoved him at Lizzy. At Lizzy, who was the least pious person she knew, and who obviously couldn't stand her cousin. It was abundantly clear to Mary where this whole endeavor was going to come falling down around their ears, but she couldn't _do_ anything about it. It was like sitting on the side of the road, watching a team of horses about to run you over, and not being able to move; or maybe it was like a cobra's victim, sitting there spellbound waiting for his doom.

She was at this ball, watching the parson, _her parson_ make a fool of himself, but she would have gladly taken him just as he was should she be given the chance. When the time to exhibit came, she was desperate to show that she could do something well. Maybe her taste in music might turn Mr. Collins towards her and away from the obviously unsuitable Lizzy.

Mary was just starting her second movement, when her father approached abruptly and said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, _"That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."_

She could see the scorn in his eyes, his assertion that she was a silly girl not worthy of his time, attention or respect; and unbeknownst to her, she was pushed right to the edge of the cliff without ever being aware of its dangers.

She jumped up from the pianoforte in mortification and looked around. Lizzy was obviously embarrassed, but _not_ by her father as would be proper, but by  her. Kitty and Lydia were openly laughing at her, despite the fact that they were a walking and constant embarrassment to anyone of good taste. She looked to her mother for reassurance, but that was a forlorn hope. When was the last time her mother had given her anything at all?

Mary jumped up from the pianoforte and attempted to walk away as fast as possible with some dignity, when the very last ledge crumbled and she ran headlong, full tilt into none other than the much despised Mr. Darcy, and actually knocked him flat on the floor.

Mary stared at him in dismay, completely and utterly unable to utter the apology that was clearly required, when he started speaking… well, shouting really.

"Miss Bennet! Please, show some dignity and have a care clumsy girl."

That was it; the very last thing she could endure. She wanted to run away. She wanted it more than anything she had ever experienced in her life, but for the first time ever, she was overcome by a fury that she was unable to stop, or contain, or even moderate in any way. The entire ballroom had descended in silence at Mr. Darcy's uncharitable words. Every soul in Meryton wanted to see what the odd Bennet girl would do next. Lizzy started to come towards her, whether with comfort, censure or ridicule was hard to predict; which was the very last thing she needed, so Mary just let her mouth go. For once in her life, she was going to have her say and hang the consequences.

"Mr. Darcy! Are you a child that you can't take a little tumble without losing what little manners you possess? I'm hardly surprised a bully like you can't handle a small misstep. I may be ungraceful, but at least I've never publicly insulted anyone in my life… well, before now anyway. I've never called anyone ' _tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me_ '. I've never looked down my nose at an entire community. I've never whined because I can't keep to my feet like a man. _It's hardly any wonder Lizzy can't stand the sight of you."_

Once she started, she just couldn't stop and nobody in the ballroom could turn away.

"Father! Once again, your ill breeding and bad manners come to the fore. You've thrown away your fortune these twenty years on my mother's excesses, your books and your port; or perhaps it's your port and your books! You have left nothing for your daughters, not even sense and education; which are your duty as a father to provide. I know you are ashamed of me and perhaps all of my sisters except your two favorites. You should know that I am ashamed of you as well. You have failed us father. Be proud sir. _You have raised five spinsters_."

"Mother! Cannot you keep your mouth shut for once in your life? Jane may have once had a chance with Mr. Bingley. He may have even liked her, although he's just as likely to be just another rich man playing a game with a country miss. It would not be the first time or the last, but haven't you seen Mr. Darcy look at you and listen to you? Haven't you seen the disdain he obviously feels? Haven't you seen how your vulgar manners are going to send you to the hedgerows as surely as your situation? Can't you see that you've wasted our heritage on fripperies, and I can see as clear as day you wish to make Lizzy pay for your waste with her youth and her life. _How dare you_!"

"Mr. Collins! Wake up sir. Cannot you see that Lizzy would not marry you if you were the last man on Earth? I would have happily taken you, and made you a very good wife, but if you continue as you are, you will be thoroughly and completely rejected, _mark my words sir_."

"Kitty and Lydia! Father is right about one thing. You are both the silliest girls in England, and I would be unsurprised to find either or both of you disgracing the family _within the year_."

"Mr. Bingley! Are you the head of your family or not? Your sisters' manners are atrocious, yet you do _nothing_ to check them. Miss Bingley thinks quite highly of herself, but she's been out in society, thinking highly of herself, with I'm sure a vast dowry for _more than five years_. She'll be on the shelf soon, if she's not already, and you'll have her all to yourself. Enjoy her company sir."

With that, Mary gave a strangled cry, looked around at the room and ran out the front doors as fast as her legs would take her.

* * *

Stunned silence greeted Mary Bennet's departure. It was some time before anyone could make a sound, and it was naturally Mr. Collins who found his well-oiled voice first.

"Well, I say that was the worst display of ill manners I've ever seen in my life. Lady Catherine will be most displeased! Most displeased indeed! Mr. Bennet, I cannot possibly return to your home after such a shameful display."

Fortunately, or perhaps not, nobody was paying the slightest attention to him except for Charlotte Lucas who happened to be standing just a few feet from him, who replied, "Mr. Collins, I am sure my father will welcome you at Lucas Lodge."

Charlotte was a woman of seven and twenty years, who was looking at her own cliff with some alarm. For a woman, being "on the shelf" was a bit of a cliff, and she was perilously close to it. She could probably live with her brothers; but what kind of a life was that? No family. No home of her own. No Children. She could probably find employment, which would be preferable, but being a parson's wife had something to recommend it, and Rosings sounded very fine. Mr. Collins was no catch, but he seemed malleable enough and she could do worse. Charlotte owed the Bennets some loyalty, but it had limits, and it was clear that between Mr. Bennet and Mary, all chance of a match with any Bennet was irrevocably gone if there had ever been one. Charlotte Lucas was no fool, and when she saw an opportunity, she intended to take it.

She saw her father coming toward her and started expeditiously working on her plan to secure Mr. Collins at Lucas Lodge.

As Charlotte was greeting her father, she heard Mr. Darcy mutter the oddest thing to himself, ' _Can't stand the site of me. What could she mean?'_ These were snake-infested waters that Charlotte had not the slightest inclination of navigating, so she took Mr. Collins' arm and guided him to her father, so she could arrange her conquest.

Mr. Bingley stood in mute silence. He glanced at his sister and saw her… really saw her, perhaps for the first time. She was clearly enjoying the spectacle. She did not have the slightest bit of concern or sympathy for the poor Bennet girl who had just fallen apart right in front of all of their eyes, and he realized something true. Mary Bennet was right, his sister was a harridan. He had no idea how to fix it, but at least now, he knew. He also knew that after this outburst, Darcy and Caroline would press him mercilessly to leave the area, and he wasn't at all sure that he could or even wanted to resist them. He really thought he might love Miss Jane Bennet, but the thought of attaching himself to that family seemed overwhelming.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were for once in their lives truly embarrassed. Both had skated through Meryton society these five and twenty years mostly disregarding what anybody may have thought or said, but now it was done. It was clear. For as much as they may have let their girls down up to this point, now all was done. The reputation of the Bennet sisters would now be tarnished probably beyond redemption, and the chances of a good match for any of them now seemed greatly diminished.


	2. The Other Shoe– Nov 27 1811

Nobody was surprised or overly alarmed when Mary wasn't at the breakfast table the next morning. Harsh words were waiting to be said, and they were in no great hurry to say them, nor did it seem likely she was in any great hurry to hear them. Any reproofs to be had could be done after luncheon just as well as after breakfast, and the other sisters saw no urgency to get into the middle of the matter.

When Mary did not show for luncheon, her father exerted himself to object.

"Lizzy, go find Mary and bring her down. There's no point in putting this off any longer."

Just as Elizabeth was getting up to leave, a servant from Netherfield arrived with a note for Jane. Mary was not forgotten for even a second, but Jane had to take precedence. Jane read the note, and its contents could be read on her face as clearly as from the page. As she went down through the note, her face fell. The more she read, the more it fell until she was finally weeping. She ran from the room as quickly as she could, throwing the letter on the table as she went. Elizabeth picked it up and read it to the room, accompanied by stunned silence.

The letter was from Caroline Bingley, who could only barely contain her glee, although she tried to phrase it as concern for her "friend". The entire Netherfield party apparently had _urgent business in town_ and had left that morning, with no intention of returning for the rest of the winter, if at all.

Mrs. Bennet said something not wholly unexpected, "We are ruined! We are all ruined."

For once, nobody had the heart to argue with her.

When dinner was served, Mr. Bennet decided he had had enough of Mary's absence and sent Elizabeth up to fetch her. She may have been able to cajole two meals out of cook, but she could not hide forever.

Elizabeth returned almost instantly, speaking in a clipped and frightened voice said, "Mary is not in her room. She does not appear to have returned from the ball. Everything is just as we left it last night."

Mr. Bennet gave free vent to his anger and frustration at this point.

"Does that girl mean to frighten us or anger us? It matters not, she has roused me now and she will pay the price. She must have stayed with the Lucas girl or the Goldings'. Girls, make yourselves useful for once and go find her."

Elizabeth asked, "Alone, in the dark sir?"

Elizabeth's question quieted her father, and he said, "Of course not. I'm sure she's just afraid to come home. Go find her in the morning, but do it quietly. It will not do to damage the family's reputation any farther than it already is."

The ladies agreed to this plan, but sleep was a long time coming or all of them. Mary had been gone for nearly an entire day, and they could just imagine the chaos that was going to descend upon the house on her return.

True to their word, the Bennet sisters set out the next morning visiting neighbors trying to find the missing sister. Much to their dismay, they found that they were not as welcomed in the homes of their neighbors they'd known all her life, as they would have expected. Most of their neighbors were not quite malicious enough to turn them away at the door, but it was obvious that their company was not welcome. It was so obvious that even Kitty and Lydia, not the most astute of observers, noted it.

By the time they all returned to Longbourn for luncheon, two things were obvious. One is that Mary was not hiding out with any of their neighbors. In fact, it seemed unlikely that any of their neighbors would have hosted her anyway. Had she sought refuge, she would no doubt of been delivered back to Longbourn almost immediately. Nobody wanted the stain of the Bennet's reputation to land on their family as well. The second was that the gossip had already started, and could only get worse. This was perhaps not as scandalous as other possibilities, but between Mr. Bennet's ill manners, Mary's outburst, and the decampment of the entire Netherfield party which was laid squarely to the Bennet's account; the neighbors were filled with gossip from top to bottom, and the Bennet sisters reputation seemed to be irreparably damaged.

By dinner of the second day, the Bennet parents were becoming alarmed. It was one thing for Mary to hide out with some neighbors against her just punishment, another thing entirely to completely disappear. It belatedly occurred to them that she must have left the Netherfield ball afoot, and any number of unpleasant things could happen during the night. Unfortunately, by this time, more than a day had passed and anything he did to try to find her would make them look even more ridiculous. Full of indecision, they let the remainder of the evening go by.

By the next morning, it was clear that they could not just ignore the problem. They sent all of their servants out in search of the missing girl and also elicited the help of their neighbors. The neighbors would obviously use this as yet more gossip fodder, yet more arrows to sling in the Bennet sisters, yet more advantage their own unmarried daughters; but they could not in good conscience or with continuing respect refuse to assist.

Every path, every forest trail, every tree and every bush was searched; but there was no sign of Mary Bennet. It was as if the Earth had opened up and swallowed her whole. By the end of the third day, there was no hope of discovering her at all, and the family was quite at a loss as what to do. If she were found dead, it would have been a less severe blow to the remaining sisters, but to have her simply missing and under such circumstances left a cloud over the sisters that seemed likely to take a very long time to dissipate, if ever.

The next month dragged by an agonized silence. Invitations to visit other families disappeared almost entirely. Invitations they sent to others were ever so politely declined, citing prior obligations. Even the neighborhood gossip stopped coming to commiserate with Fanny Bennet, since her family was now the primary source.

By Christmas, it seemed readily apparent that things had reached a reasonably steady state. The gossip still continued and the Bennets were still almost openly disdained in the neighborhood, but things at least were not getting worse… until they did.

All of the wisest of old hands of the neighborhood would swear that they had predicted this. It was nearly inevitable was it not? Just between Christmas and New Year, it became clear that Lydia Bennet was increasing. Being a girl of little sense or education she didn't even know what was happening, until she asked one of her few remaining friends a few odd and disconnected questions that revealed her condition. It was too late to hide her away, send her to her nonexistent relatives, or do anything other than endure. They were well and truly caught now.

Of course, the next shoe to drop should have been equally expected, having been predicted by the wise old sage Mary Bennet. By early-January it was clear that following in Lydia's footsteps every step of the way, Kitty Bennet was also increasing. Nobody was stepping forward to take responsibility for either babe, and no amount of questioning of either girl could induce them to identify the father.


	3. Close Encounters – Apr 4 1812

Colonel Thomas Fitzwilliam of His Majesty's Dragoons was well and truly not enjoying his trip to Rosings this Easter. As the son of an Earl, he had certain habits of expense that required a reasonable expenditure of money, and his stipend just was not enough to cover it. His father kept him on a relatively tight leash with respect to his allowance, and one of the requirements was that he visit his Aunt Catherine for a fortnight every year with his cousin Darcy. His father, the Earl, used logic that was quite simple. Anybody he could send to visit his sister Catherine was better than going himself. He had a son who needed money, so he was nominated.

Ordinarily, the visit wasn't too much of a chore because he was visiting with his cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy was very close to a brother for Thomas, and usually they had a reasonably good time during the visit. This year however, Darcy was curiously out of sorts. Fitzwilliam tried every possible stratagem to find out the root of his discontent. He tried incessant chatter on the carriage with little effect. In Kent, he tried getting his cousin Anne to pry it out of Darcy. She was no more successful. He tried getting him drunk as a wheelbarrow… twice, with no effect. Darcy was as silent as the tomb on the subject, which would have been fine, except he was really not very much fun at all. Anne had her moments of interest, but not enough to compensate for having to be in company with his Aunt Catherine.

His aunt also had a new parson who, given the chance, could stop the war in France overnight by simply talking to Napoleon until he killed himself out of frustration. He was an odd mixture of obsequiousness and arrogance, and the only interesting thing was that he seemed completely unable to detect how ridiculous he was.

The person's wife seemed nice enough, but when you get right down to it, there was very little interest for the son of an Earl with a parson's wife. The wife was clearly trying to make her home over the objection and interference of his aunt, and there was some amusement to see her trying to work a little bit of common sense into her husband, but that amusement only went so far. The parson's wife had her sister visiting, but she was a tiny little thing of barely sixteen years, and he had yet to hear a single word escape her lips.

Fitzwilliam's only real source of amusement was his daily ride. The previous trips he had ridden with Darcy extensively, fighting, racing, and other manly pursuits; but it was nearly impossible to drag Darcy out for anything these days.

He was riding along the path near the border of Rosings one day, and decided to visit a small pond that he happened to know about. Darcy and he had gone to the pond as children, and he had fond memories of it. It seemed like a place he could spend a leisurely hour, and since it was currently free of both his aunt and his cousin, it had a lot to recommend it.

As he rode into the small glade next to the pond, he was surprised to see a young woman sitting on a rock next to the pond, reading a book. It was Shakespeare apparently by the look of it. He had tied off his horse and walked halfway across the glade before she noticed him, and she stood up with a nearly panicked look on her face.

The young lady looked frightened half to death, and she gave a quick but very respectful curtsy, and said, "Pardon me sir, I hope I am not intruding on your property."

Her demeanor was quite timid, although Fitzwilliam had the idea that she had not been so timid at one time. Something that happened to bring this upon her, and it was not her natural state of being. He decided to try to be a little bit gallant, and not make things any worse.

"Have no fear Miss. This glade is on the edge of the park for Rosings, which my aunt owns and you're welcome to visit here any time you like."

The young lady turned nearly white as a sheet, and said, "Rosings?"

"Yes. The estate belongs to my Aunt Catherine de Bourgh, and I assure you that you are quite welcome here."

That did not reassure the young lady in the least. She curtsied again, and said, "I beg your pardon sir, but I must return to my duties. I did not realize I was on Rosings property, and I will not trespass again."

He could tell by her dress and manners that she was a gentlewoman, but if she had duties that meant she either had relatives to care for, or perhaps she had entered employment. Either way, she was the most interesting thing he had run into since he got to Rosings, so he thought it worthwhile to try to make your acquaintance.

"You need not leave right away. At least allow me to introduce myself."

The young lady was already hurrying away from the glade nearly as fast as she could without running. He didn't know what had disturbed her. Perhaps it was his appearance, but that didn't really seem to be it. She was clearly in no mood to be introduced, but he was not going to let her get away without one more attempt.

"Please, Miss! You need not fear me, nor your attendance in this glade. You are quite welcome here."

The young lady looked back at him and said, "I thank you for that sir, but I really must be going. Good day to you sir."

With that, she slipped into a path where he could follow her afoot if he really wanted to, but not with this horse. Chasing her down on foot seemed like that would frighten her even more, so he let her go back to her duties. He would however be back here tomorrow looking again. She was a fascinating creature, and he was going to get an introduction if it killed him.

However, four more days of searching did not produce the elusive lady. He spent several hours every day riding around within walking distance of where he had found her, but she did not appear to be walking out anymore. He went outside the boundaries of the park several times, and even tried riding by some of the neighboring estates, but it was a needle in a haystack.

Finally, he felt it was time to admit defeat. Tomorrow they were to leave to go back to his regiment, when he finally convinced Darcy to ride out with him for the day. For a while, it was almost like old times. Darcy, on the back of a horse actually seemed to come back to life a little bit. They raced across the open fields until the horses were lathered and practically ready to fall over, and then walked them in companionable silence. Fitzwilliam pushed them towards the boundary where he had seen the young lady, and they kept going beyond the edges of Rosings toward the next neighboring estate.

A short while later his luck improved. Walking the horses carefully across one of the fields of the neighboring estate, he spied what looked like the same young lady walking towards the house. With a lighthearted laugh, he set his horse heading in her direction, bent on introducing himself at the very least. He was going to get her name if it killed him.

"Miss, I've been riding the groves for some days in hope of encountering you again."

She stopped and looked up at him, a little bit less alarmed, but still quite wary.

"I believe I am not in the Rosings estate, am I sir?"

The timidity of the question surprised him, because she did not look like the type of woman who would be timid in the least. There was something about Rosings that bothered her.

"Of course not. You are some miles from it. You have done nothing amiss. I simply was hoping to properly introduce myself. Before you run off, I will perform the office."

He jumped from his horse, performed a deep bow and said "Colonel Fitzwilliam, at your service madam."

She seemed amused by his gallantry, and gave him a tentative smile.

"It's very nice to meet you Colonel. I am…"

Right at that moment, Darcy rode up behind her. She had not really been paying attention, and she seemed a little startled to hear the horse so close to her. She stepped back from the horse a little bit, and looked up at his cousin. Her countenance changed completely. He thought she nearly turned white, and she executed a quick curtsy, and said, "I must be back to my duties Colonel. It was very nice to meet you."

With that, she left the gentlemen behind nearly as quickly as she could move without running. Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "What the devil! She was just going to introduce yourself, but you seem to have scared her off Darcy."

He looked up at his cousin Darcy, and saw that he was nearly as white as the young lady had been, and he was staring across the field watching her walk away."

"Darcy, have you an explanation old man?"

Darcy blew out a deep breath, and completed her introductions for her. "That Fitzwilliam… is Miss Elizabeth Bennet."


	4. The Moth and the Cliff – Jan 1812

_Everyone has a breaking point.… An unfortunate few see the cliff as a lure, and as a moth to a flame, they keep pushing their luck, edging closer and closer, once and again, until one day, they inevitably went over the side._

Fitzwilliam Darcy was one such man, and his cliff was in Hertfordshire. He met his nemesis at an assembly, or apparently insulted her there but never actually met her. She was of no fortune, no connections, no beauty, and no wit; nothing in short to recommend her, and he was thoroughly and completely finished with her before he even started.

Then she showed up on foot to take care of her sick sister. He liked to wonder if his sister would walk three miles to take care of him. It was a completely different point since he was both father and brother to her, but still. Even worse, would he walk three miles to take care of his sister? He had done more than that on her behalf more than once, but was he really doing all that a brother should do? Was he doing as much as Miss Elizabeth did for her sister? He was not at all certain he would or that he was.

Thus began his fascination and obsession with the woman that seemed destine to be his flame. At first, he could scarcely admit that she was pretty or had any admirable traits at all. Later, he found her figure light and pleasing and her manners engaging. He found she engaged his mind first, and then his body. Her flirting was so much more intelligent and witty than any woman he had met. In fact, instead of agreeing with every opinion she thought he might have, she deliberately challenged him, even to the point of arguing the opposite of what she actually believed.

Then he was exposed to her mother and her sisters and he was back from the edge. Back wandering the safe paths. He need no longer worry about her. He couldn't even see or smell the cliff from the woods they were traversing. He was completely safe; until that infernal ball. He just _had_ to dance with her. He could see the flames. He could see the danger. He could feel the heat. He could feel the ground shifting out from under him, but he recklessly asked her to dance and she accepted. Was he to be fully engulfed, or would this be his one peek into the abyss, before retreating, back to the safety of his comfortable woods.

Then they argued during the dance. Who could argue during a dance? Nevertheless, they had, about George Wickham of all things. She had fallen for that rogue, and he was well rid of her when the dance ended. He was back safe and sound, with no cliff in sight.

He was just reflecting on how much he liked the safety of solid ground when he was bowled over by one of the numerous younger Bennet sisters, Mary he thought. Such was his distraction about his recent encounter with the flame, which left his wings singed, that he reacted by instinct without real thought, and what he said was in every way loud and uncharitable.

Before he had a chance to correct his distinctly ungentlemanlike outburst, the younger Miss Bennet set upon him with the pent up fury of a lifetime of abuse. It seemed at first that he was to pay the entire fee for all her years of disappointments. That only lasted a few moments, as Miss Mary laid about her with a scorched earth tactic that left not a single person of her acquaintance unscathed. Like a giant catapult, he was hurled back so far from the cliff it would take an expedition of months to approach the environs again. Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy was well and truly safe once more. A quick decampment from Hertfordshire the next morning brought a sense of relief and safety that was palpable and overwhelming.

He only had one small problem; one niggling little thought; or two if he was to be honest with himself.

The first didn't come upon him for several days. One day when he was trying his best to bring his sister Georgiana out of a funk, he was forced to reflect on the incident.

Mary Bennet had done the most ill-mannered and destructive act imaginable right in front of him, but in retrospect, it was also the bravest. She and her sisters would pay a heavy price for it, but she had said the things nobody else had been willing to say, and worst of all, it had to be admitted that Miss Mary had been correct and truthful in every particular. It was brave and foolhardy, but accurate. Someday, he hoped to reacquaint himself with the fiercest of the Bennet sisters, but not just now.

That thought paled in comparison to the second thought though. The second was the idea that he was now completely safe from the cliff… that it would take a journey of months to approach it again. It turned out to be less than two months.

One morning in late January, he decided to gather a bit of intelligence. He was not going to act, certainly nothing that foolhardy… he just had to _know_. He called for one of his men who did this sort of thing from time to time.

"Wilson, I have a task for you."

"Yes, sir"

"Go to Meryton, the town where I stayed with Bingley last autumn. There was an incident there with a Miss Mary Bennet and myself at a ball at Netherfield Park. I wish to know how the family fares. Do it quietly. I wish no one to know of my interest. Be cautious and take your time."

Wilson was a good man, who expressed a report within a few days.

 _Mr. Darcy,_

 _No subtlety was required to ascertain the information you desire. It's all over Meryton and the gossip can be heard by standing on any corner or tavern for a quarter hour._

 _The reputations of the Bennet sisters are tarnished beyond repair. It seems unlikely any of them will ever prosper. Their estate is entailed on a distant cousin, some parson in Kent who recently wed a Miss Charlotte Lucas, and everyone expects the worst when Mr. Bennet dies. I should have the particulars on the parson in a day or so._

 _There are some mysteries surrounding the sisters._

 _Miss Mary Bennet completely disappeared right after the altercation with you among others. She left the ball and was never seen again. Her family didn't even start searching for two days, thinking she was hiding to avoid punishment for the outburst. By the time they started searching in earnest, the trail was cold and I don't think her father is very diligent anyway. Nothing has been heard from her since, and most consider her likely dead or worse._

 _In December, one of the other daughters, a Miss Lydia was found to be increasing. She won't name the father. One of the members of a local militia company is suspected, but neither the girl nor any militiamen are confessing. In January, another of the girls, a Miss Catherine or Kitty followed the other, so there are now two unclaimed babes on the way at Longbourn._

 _The two oldest daughters, a Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth have both left for parts unknown. The family puts out that they've gone to stay with relatives in town, but nobody in the village knows them, or if that's true. Some speculate that the eldest are in the same way was as the youngest, but most don't believe it. They believe the eldest have gone out to make their way in the world free of the scandal._

 _I will stay a few more days to await instruction, but I doubt I will be able to get any more information without applying to the family directly, and it seems unlikely that application would be successful._

 _Yours etc &  
Malcolm Wilson_

Well, that put paid to that account. He was mightily happy that he had never actually aligned himself with such an unsuitable family. He was now completely safe from the cliff, and Miss Elizabeth would be gone from his head and his heart forthwith. He enjoyed a leisurely month well away from the cliff; until the unthinkable happened.

Fitzwilliam Darcy did not do rash things. He thought through every action carefully, weighed the consequences and took thoughtful action. Thus had it always been, and thus would it always be. He was therefore somewhat surprised to find himself at the end of February, making a clandestine approach to Longbourn. He just _could not stand it_. He had to know.

Darcy managed to apply to the housekeeper quietly and get into Mr. Bennet's study without the rest of the household being aware, and hoped to escape the same way. He could hear the younger sisters flitting about the house and talking, and they sounded as silly and improper as ever, and he chose to ignore them. What he saw shocked him. Mr. Bennet was a shell of the man he'd been at the ball. He looked like he had aged a decade or more in the last few months.

"Mr. Darcy, what brings you here? I thought all of our business with you and your friends was concluded to your satisfaction in November."

"Mr. Bennet, I have no desire to cause you any additional pain, but I am… unsatisfied with the resolution in November, and wish to know somewhat more of the dispositions of your daughters."

"And why is that Mr. Darcy. Did you have designs on one of them? It seems unlikely in the extreme, and even if you did, what Mary said was uncharitable and rude, but accurate. You were not held in any favor when you were here. Perhaps now that our family's reputation is completely ruined, one of them might be tempted though, so if you like, you are welcome to take your pick of the lot."

This was worse than he thought. The man had given up all pretense of fatherhood.

"Sir, I have no designs on any of your daughters, but I have been bothered by my uncharitable words to Miss Mary at the ball. It was clearly the very last in a long line of offenses that cannot all be laid on me, but I would like to apologize for my part and perhaps make reparations if I may."

Mr. Bennet looked critically at him. At another time, he might have been amused by the follies and inconsistencies of the ever‑amusing Mr. Darcy, but he just did not have it in him anymore. He did not have much of anything in him anymore.

"Mr. Darcy, if you can find Mary, you are welcome to say or do anything you like with her. I am done with her."

"Surely, you do not blame her for all that has befallen your family?"

"Once again, my accounts are my business to settle as I please and not yours Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said with more force than necessary.

Darcy could see that the man seemed to have just given up, on his family, on his duty, on himself. There was nothing more to be done here, but the last piece of information he wanted… no needed! It wasn't the last thing he needed… it was the first.

"And can you tell me where Miss Elizabeth is?"

Here he saw a little bit of Mr. Bennet's native intelligence shine back into his eyes for just a moment. He was putting two and two together, but just as quickly he saw the eyes shift toward the port bottle. He would not be doing any sums today.

"Mr. Darcy, I would tell you if I could, but I cannot. Both Jane and Elizabeth left a month ago, and I know not where, or when or even if they will return. They left me a note explaining that they had 'tasks' to complete and would visit again one day, but no details. They are as lost to me as Mary."

Darcy was stunned. This was completely unexpected, and he took some time to come up with a response.

"Tasks, you say"

"Yes, 'tasks'

"Do you know what these tasks entail?"

Mr. Bennet sighed resignedly, "No, Mr. Darcy I do not. Elizabeth does not trust me with the information. In fact, I'm not sure she trusts me with anything anymore. She and Jane cooked up some scheme and left a month ago. I suspect they've either gone husband hunting among my brother in law's connections in trade, or gone to seek employment. They could write me through her uncle Gardiner in Cheapside, but they have sent nothing except a short note stating they had arrived safely wherever they planned to go. I do not even know if they are together."

Of all the possibilities he had considered, this was not one. Fitzwilliam Darcy did not allow others to control situations, he was the master and he arranged others' lives. Now, he just wanted to talk to one woman for a few minutes to try to purge her from his soul, and it did not appear likely he would even be able to find her without considerable effort and possible exposure, which he could not risk.

With a resigned sigh, Darcy took his leave of Mr. Bennet and left through the same route he had come in by, with none other than the housekeeper the wiser.


	5. Recriminations – Dec 1811 – Jan 1812

When you step off a cliff, you may or may not be able to make your way back to the top; but usually the top is still there. It may be changed by your absence, but it is usually fundamentally sound. Your loss causes some ripples, but the safe paths can reassert their normality and life goes on much as before except for your loved ones who may be mourning you. Most that go blindly off a cliff leave little permanent mark on the clifftop.

When one goes off a cliff, the result depends on what type of cliff it is, and on the fundamental personality of the hapless cliff dweller. Some will tumble all the way to the ground, dust themselves off, look around and decide they quite like the new environs. Some enjoy the ride down immensely, and when they reach the bottom they go immediately in search of another cliff; and will frequently repeat the process until the do one too many. Some are of such character as to be unable to stand any big change at all, and a fall of a yard may as well be a mile. Some may be of such weak discernment that they reach the bottom without being aware that they've gone anywhere at all.

For Elizabeth and Jane Bennet, there was no chance for any of these alternatives. They never got the opportunity to make an unconscious but satisfying choice to step off the cliff… for make no mistake… Mary was pushed right to the edge and maybe tilted over the side, but she did take the last step on her own. She chose to have her say for once. She chose to leave. She was not whisked away from Hertfordshire by fairies or brigands.

No, this was not the way for Elizabeth and Jane Bennet. For them, the entire side of the mountain caved away from under them, one layer at a time, and they were cast down tumbling into the abyss, accompanied by all the rocks, trees and other debris that used to make up the firmament of their lives. Perhaps Mary's set down could have been endured had she returned to face down her shame, but at some cost. Perhaps, Mary and Lydia combined could have been endured, but that was much less certain. By the discovery of Kitty's shame, there was no mountainside left. There was nobody and nothing left to cling to.

They were not the first ladies to have their entire world crumble around them, nor would they be the last. It unfortunately happens all the time, and you could guess that whoever the scoundrel was who destroyed the last remaining shred of their family's dignity had done so before and would do so again. Such is the way of the world.

Different people can tolerate such a calamity in different ways. Some just need someone to tell them all will be well, and they will skate to the bottom without a care. Such it was for Jane Bennet, although even if nobody told her all would be well, she still assumed it anyway.

Others will look around, see the nature of the calamity and immediately put the responsibility for the entire mountainside on their shoulder, whether it belongs there or not. Such was the case with Elizabeth Bennet. She was the only one of the sisters to see Mary clearly during her moment of panic, and she would have ample leisure over the days and months to follow to recriminate on all of her failures as a sister. She had seen Mary's reaction when Elizabeth started moving toward her. Elizabeth would play those moments over and over in her mind until it nearly drove her mad. Mary assumed Elizabeth would offer censure or ridicule. Mary assumed that whatever Lizzy did would make things worse. Mary did not trust her own elder sister to help her in the worst moment of her life!

Such was the nature of the sisters, that Elizabeth was the only sister in a position to interpret things in that way. Jane did not see the event, and if she had, she would have thought the best of everyone involved and forgiven all for any transgressions; then never thought about it again other than to offer comfort. The younger sisters would have laughed at Mary, and in fact, that's exactly what they did behind her back. Her parents sought any way to evade any responsibility, or even thinking about it at all. Only Elizabeth felt that she was personally responsible.

"Jane, I believe we failed Mary and our younger sisters as well."

"Oh Lizzy, what are you saying? You aren't their parents. You never treated them ill. You never discouraged them. What can you have had to do with it?"

"That's just it, Jane. I saw. I knew my parents were setting a bad example, yet I did nothing. I knew that Mary was isolated, yet I made no effort. I knew Kitty and Lydia were wild, yet I never tried seriously to slow them. It's as much my fault as our parents."

"Oh, Lizzy. I just can't believe it. They're good girls, they just made a mistake."

"No Jane, you are too generous. Both girls are completely unrepentant. They both think they are so clever, and they both blame Marry for all of our troubles… which they don't really care about except as it pertains to them."

"Lizzy, you take too much upon yourself, and I think you are too inclined to think the worst of people."

Therein lay the root of the problem. Elizabeth Bennet did have a propensity to think meanly of people on occasion, and at the moment her favorite person to think meanly of was herself.

How many times had she laughed at people along with her father rather than helping her sisters? How many times had she agreed with her father that her two youngest were the silliest girls in England with her silence? How many times had she listened to Mary's desperate cries for notice without being aware of what they were or that she was failing her as a sister?

Around and around this went in her head. Over and over, every failure. Lizzy the clever one didn't see what was happening right in front of her face every day of her life. Lizzy the one with the most discernment couldn't recognize how people she knew so well would act. Lizzy the father's favorite never once called him to task for his failure to provide for his daughters. Lizzy had hours to walk the paths of the estate, but no time to help her younger sisters. She was the daughter with the tools, the intelligence, the education, the attention of her father… and it had all come to naught in the end.

Some days, she tried to fight the good fight.

"Lydia, you must prepare for the babe that's coming. It will be here, and it will be your responsibility."

"Oh La, Lizzy! You're such a Nickninny. We will have nurses to take care of the baby."

"Lydia, there will be no money for those. You will have to care for the babe yourself."

"You worry too much Lizzy. I'll have mother and sisters to help me, and the babe's father will come for me when he completes his important business."

"Who is the paragon of business? When exactly will he come back to take his responsibilities?"

"Leave me alone Lizzy. You don't understand. You're just jealous because I'll be married with a babe soon and you'll die an old maid."

Some flavor of this conversation was repeated many times, while her father took to his port earlier and earlier every day, and her mother retreated to her bed and her salts with louder and louder screeches every day.

"Father, you must take Lydia and Kitty in hand. They are in no way ready for the responsibilities of being mothers, and you don't have that much time."

"Let me worry about my family Lizzy. I am the head of it still."

"So start acting like it!"

"Lizzy you're sounding like your mother, and one in this house is sufficient. Go! Let me deal with my family as I see fit."

Lizzy went out to walk the lanes of the estate, but it no longer held the comfort it had previously. Nothing did. Even Jane's unrelenting sweetness and ability to think well of everyone and everything palled. Elizabeth felt like an extremely slow-moving turtle, crawling off the edge of the world a bit at a time.

"Miss Elizabeth. Might I have a word?"

"Mr. Hill. What can I do for you? Hadn't you rather talk to my parents?"

"I've been trying to talk to them for a se'nnight and neither will listen."

"Very well, what can I do for you?"

Mr. Hill shuffled his feet and looked down at them for some time, as his wife watched in the background.

"You see, Miss Elizabeth. We are leaving. My brother secured us a position in Surrey, and we need to go and take it. I hate to be unkind Miss Elizabeth. We both think the world of you and Miss Jane, but we just cannot work in this house anymore. Your mother has made it impossible."

Thus did the last remaining piece of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's world crumble and slide down the hillside.

"We've secured a couple from the village who are seeking employment for an interview on the morrow. Will you talk to them?"

"When do you need to leave?"

"In a fortnight"

Elizabeth was gripped by the blackest despair. How could anything ever be set aright?

Elizabeth was nearly unable to move or think for days until she got an idea. She must leave Longbourn. She must find a way to earn back her self‑respect, and she must find a way to help her family. She was accomplishing nothing here. Neither was Jane. After a few discussions with Jane, they concluded there was no time to lose, as they had much to do and little time to do it.

"Father, I believe Jane and I have discovered a way to help our family, and I will need your leave to accept the task."

"Do you intend to explain this task to me, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth could tell by the level of port in his decanter that no profit would come from a detailed explanation, and she could not bear the thought of allowing him to interfere should he become even more impaired. She felt guilty about leaving the four least capable members of the household to shift for themselves; but her task must come first, and perhaps the four would pull themselves up if they didn't have her and Jane to lean on. Nothing else was working, so it was worth a try.

"Father, it is best if we go about the task unhindered. I will write you when we have accomplished it, and we might return to Longbourn."

Such was her father's abandonment of the family that he merely grunted, and didn't even comment on the fact that she said she might return.

"Lizzy, if you leave Longbourn, there will be no more pin money for you. I won't have my daughters scampering about the country at my expense."

This was unpleasant, but not unexpected.

"Father, would you take the allowances for Jane, Mary and myself and put them in an account for the babes."

"Those babes will leave this house the moment they are born. I will not have them here."

"That will require money father. Please, will you set up the accounts?"

"Will that be sufficient to have you leave me alone?"

"Yes father. Just sign these papers. I took the liberty of having Uncle Philips draw them up, and he will manage the accounts for the babes."

Thomas Bennet knew that he should fight this indignity, but he just didn't have it in him.

"Go and do your task Lizzy. Take Jane with you. Neither of you are helping matters here."

"Goodbye, Father"


	6. The Favor – May 1 1812

_A/N: I'll take a minute to answer a few of the review comments._

 _What happened to Mary? Are you going to forget her and do all-ODC-all-the-time? Don't forget Mary!  
_ I don't quite know what to do with Mary yet, but I don't intend to abandon her after such an epic rant. I have some ideas, so when I know, you'll know – but she will have a story, although probably a small one. .

 _Darcy wouldn't shout out like that, he's too much of a gentleman.  
_ Not so much. He's a gentleman except at public assemblies, or when in company with Caroline, or when making proposals. His manners aren't without fault, so this isn't that far out of band, but mostly I wanted to portray how addled he was after dancing with Elizabeth. Think moth with half his wings burned off, getting knocked over by a mouse. I may clarify a little in an edit.

 _Jane is_ _way_ _out of character here. Nowhere near enough panic.  
_ Be patient. Jane has a story too… sooner or later.

 _Tasks! Tasks! Can you be more obscure and annoying?  
_ Afraid not, that was my best shot but if I can come up with a more annoying word, I'll post-edit it.

 _I'm very stressed about the injustice of this society.  
_ Me too! That's part of any Regency story. We're much better now, but still a long way from the finish line on all of those issues, and quite a bit of the world today is as bad as Regency England.

 _Elizabeth is downright vicious, at least with herself. It seems out of character.  
_ You don't go off a cliff every day. She never _really_ got _truly_ stressed in canon, so I'm dialing it up a bit to see what happens. She may get worse before she gets better.

 _Does Darcy realize he's gone off the cliff?  
_ I think he can take his private conference with Mr. Bennet as proof positive, but there's more coming.

 _Now, on with the story._

* * *

Charlotte Collins née Lucas let out a startled gasp at the sight of the man on the path in front of her.

Charlotte had her own story to tell, but it was so much different from the unfortunate Bennet girls. Charlotte had been _out_ at seventeen as was the custom with most families in the neighborhood, and attended her first assemblies as a grown up with all the pleasure a young girl can possess. Charlotte was a very intelligent and perceptive girl, in many ways more so then her best friend Elizabeth Bennet. While she had the same quick intelligence and wit, she had fewer blind spots and more allowances for differences in character and temperament. She was much less prone to making rash judgments and never challenging them. She was like the best parts of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet combined. Charlotte and Elizabeth made a good pair, and were good friends despite their age difference. She was also quite good friends with Jane Bennet, but not so much with the younger sisters, as she had a low (but soon to be challenged) tolerance for silliness.

Many in the neighborhood considered Charlotte a _plain girl_ , although the more astute among them would own that appellation came from Fanny Bennet, and the rest of the matrons of the neighborhood followed her lead like a bunch of baby ducks, or perhaps lemmings. In truth, Charlotte lacked nothing in appearance, manners, deportment or disposition/ Her best friends looked forward with consternation to the day she would be taken away by a worthy man. Their consternation lasted a full decade. Month after month, year after year, Charlotte remained without a suitor. Although in every material way, she was a better match than any Bennet daughter was, the locals continued to fawn over the Bennets, or look elsewhere. There weren't that many eligible suitors to start with, and the number that remained available to anyone of discernment was quite low.

After a decade of this, at seven and twenty, Charlotte felt like she had been walking down a pleasant woodland path towards the bottom of a cliff for years. Her path was slow, steady, consistent; but relentlessly down; until she felt she had reached the end of her rope; down at the bottom, staring incipient spinsterhood in the face.

That all changed in an instant, when Mary Bennet exploded the tableau. In the space of less than a minute, everything changed. Charlotte glanced up the cliff face and saw a very nice cave, halfway up with a steep ladder ascending, and decided that would suit her. It would suit her very well indeed. Without a second glance at the valley floor or the towering but not very interesting heights of the top, she climbed the ladder and arrived a month later as mistress of the Hunsford Parsonage.

Charlotte was astute enough to know she was still ensconced firmly on the cliff face, and not entirely free of danger. Her husband was not the cleverest of man and could easily make a misstep that might cost their position. His patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was controlling at best, and pernicious at worst; so there was always a chance she would dismiss them for some arbitrary reason. She and her husband also had the connection back to the much-disgraced Bennet family, which was close enough to affect them even 50 miles away in Kent. Charlotte Collins was not in any way comfortably back in the safety of the woods, but she was still much better than standing at the bottom of the cliff staring a lifetime of loneliness in the face. She just had to be careful in her actions… very, very careful.

She thought upon these matters quite a bit. She was in fact ruminating on the situation this very morning, as she took her constitutional. She was not mad for walking as Lizzy was. A half‑hour was more than enough for her, but since it was guaranteed to be free of her husband, all the household servants, and anybody from Rosings; she took the opportunity nearly every morning.

She was walking through a neatly trimmed lane in Rosings, _when she let out a startled gasp at the sight of the man on the path in front of her_.

"Mr. Darcy!"

"Mrs. Collins"

Charlotte racked her brain to try to understand how Mr. Darcy could possibly be standing on the path in front of her. Worse yet, Mr. Darcy was not wearing his traditional beaver and Hessians. In fact, he looked much more like a common woodcutter than a gentleman. He was wearing a knit cap that had seen better days. At first thought, Charlotte surmised that he must have borrowed it from one of his groomsmen. A second glance gave the lie to that assertion, as none of his grooms would be caught dead in such a disreputable bit of headgear. The rest of his attire was similarly shabby and unnoticeable. He clearly did not want to be observed by either his aunt, or his cousin; which meant that he was up to some nefarious purpose. Charlotte could not imagine what it was, but considering how badly things that ended in Hertfordshire, she did not in any way imagine it could be to her benefit. His disdain of the neighborhood right from the beginning had been plain, and his reaction to Mary's outburst had been on the extreme side. As near as she could tell, one dance with Lizzy was the closest he had come to enjoyment in the whole six weeks, and the last half of that had not looked promising.

Charlotte was nothing if not polite, so she gave a curtsy appropriate to a man of his station, although she had to wonder whether that would please him with her manners, or annoy him with the possibility of breaking his disguise.

"Mr. Darcy, I must confess to being quite surprised by your presence here."

"That's quite understandable Mrs. Collins. I imagine you have gathered that I do not care to advertise it."

"I understand sir that you have your own purposes, but I must confess you're making me uneasy. The matron you seem to be avoiding is my husband's patroness, and while I respect you greatly, I would not wish to anger her."

Darcy looked at her in an appraising way. He had to admit that he had not been paying attention properly in Hertfordshire, and he had missed any opportunity to really get to know the then Miss Lucas. He had the feeling that she was smarter than the average denizen was, and he had even asked Smith to discreetly inquire about her. He concluded that she was highly intelligent, discreet and trustworthy. She was the only person he could assign this particular task to, and he had to admit that he was quite happy with his choice. First though he had to earn her trust.

"Mrs. Collins. I understand that my presence here will cause you some discomfort, and for that I apologize."

"Not at all, Mr. Darcy. I am at your disposal."

Darcy could see that everything she said was calculated, and she was still very uneasy, but hiding it well. It was time to set her mind at ease. He thought that during the days and possibly the years ahead, she would be an ally well worth having.

"Mrs. Collins. I would like to entrust you with a difficult task that I believe only you are capable of. I realize that this task entails a certain amount of risk to you and your position, so I have taken the liberty of trying to abrogate those risks. Would you object to hearing of my plans? You need not accept the task I will ask of you, but I will ask your discretion. You can walk away right this moment if you feel excessively uncomfortable."

Charlotte had never had the terribly low opinion of Mr. Darcy that Lizzy seem to revel in, but neither did she have a positive one. She was willing to withhold judgment. She really had no concrete evidence that he was guilty of anything other than bad manners. He had those in abundance, but dishonorable conduct… If he had any, she was unaware of it.

"Continue Mr. Darcy. I will entertain your suit."

With that, Darcy set about trying to build an ally. He had tasks that must be done, and they must be done quietly and discreetly, and by someone who had earned the appropriate level of trust. His quarry was extremely skittish, and he did not want to lose her again.

"Mrs. Collins. I am aware that I am going to ask you to do something that could threaten your position in Hunsford. In fact, I can guarantee you my aunt will react badly if she finds out. I surmise you have calculated that possibility as well?"

"Yes Mr. Darcy, I comprehended that as soon as I saw your manner of dress."

Darcy handed her the thick envelope in his hand.

"Mrs. Collins. I will not allow my business to harm another if I can avoid it. I've done enough harm already. You have my word as a gentleman that I will take care of you and your family, but I beg that you would take these documents and keep them safe. These bind myself _and my heirs_ to the conditions I put forth. Do not show them to your husband. Certainly do not show them to Lady Catherine. But open them, study them, and keep them at hand should they be required."

"I must say Mr. Darcy, you are sounding very mysterious. Pray tell me what these letters contain."

"This is a binding legal document, promising your husband a living should you lose this one for any reason. The only stipulation is that you remain his wife, or should you predecease him, that he still has care of any of your children. It also establishes an annuity for you and any of your children should your husband predecease you."

Charlotte was stunned by this. She would do his bidding for considerably less than this and he well knew it.

"I am quite at a loss Mr. Darcy. You can imagine my astonishment; but would you care to tell me why you chose to be so generous? You can buy my loyalty with far less. In fact, I would probably have helped you simply to be generous had you simply asked."

Darcy blew out a long breath.

"Call it reparations or penance Mrs. Collins. I hold Miss Mary's outburst to my account, and there seems a good chance at least one of the younger sisters may be carrying the child of a man I should have dealt with long ago."

"You take too much upon yourself, Mr. Darcy. Miss Mary was right near the edge. You did not put words in her mouth."

"Perhaps not, but can you honestly tell me I handled a woman in obvious distress as a gentleman would?"

Charlotte thought carefully, and judged he wanted a real answer.

"No sir. You did not."

"I cannot find Miss Mary, Mrs. Collins. I've tried. I cannot help her if I cannot find her, but I can help another."

"Who do you have in mind, sir? What is your task?"

"I wish you to convince Miss Elizabeth Bennet to talk to me. "

"I'm afraid I have no more idea where she is than her father does."

"I know where she is."

Charlotte raised one eyebrow at this revelation.

"And how do you know this?"

"I've seen her."

"Why not just talk to her then?"

"She ran away… as fast as it was possible to do so. She does not trust me."

"She could not have gotten far."

Darcy looked defeated. In fact, now that Charlotte looked beyond the ragged clothing he wore as a disguise, she could see evidence of a man who had not had a good night's sleep in some time. He had dark circles under his eyes, and unless she was much mistaken, he had lost weight and had a generally haggard appearance that went better with his disguise than it would with his customary clothing. She could well imagine him asking like an avenging god for a member of s household and being turned away just based on his appearance. Charlotte herself might have been frightened if she did not already know him.

"I know where she went. I called at the house, and they told me there was nobody there by that name. She will not see me."

"And why is it so important to see her sir?"

"Must I say it Mrs. Collins?"

"Best you save that revelation, whatever it is to her, sir. I will do your bidding, but can promise nothing. What I've heard of Lizzy says she may not be handling the situation well. She frankly sounds a little bit on the mad side based on what my mother says."

"So your mother has been in company with the Bennets, then?"

Charlotte looked embarrassed.

"Not as such, sir. I may just be repeating ugly rumors."

"You're right about one thing Mrs. Collins."

"What's that, Mr. Darcy?"

"At least one person in that house is mad."

Charlotte sighed, "What would you have me do Mr. Darcy?"


	7. Correspondence and Consequences – May 2

Saturday found Charlotte Collins in the very odd position of riding to the Smyth estate just outside of Rosings in the phaeton of Anne de Bourgh. Her arrangement with Mr. Darcy included getting her to the estate unnoticed, but anything Mr. Darcy did directly would no doubt raise notice. A parson's wife traveling with any other man would raise even more suspicions, and Mr. Darcy did not trust just anybody with the task.

Charlotte was quite surprised when Miss de Bourgh pulled up in the location arranged for the meeting and bade her enter the phaeton. They rode in companionable silence for a while, before Charlotte realized she had never had a true conversation with Miss de Bourgh. Her mother so dominated all conversation and Charlotte considered calling at Rosings to be much too dangerous to let down her guard. Miss de Bourgh never tried to engage with the parson's wife, and that seemed just and natural so Charlotte never objected.

However, she couldn't really stand the thought of passing several hours in silence, so decided to breech some subject.

"Thank you for the ride Miss de Bourgh. I must say I am surprised to find myself traveling with you, although I am delighted."

"No more surprised than I, Mrs. Collins… no more surprised than I. Darcy didn't share the details of why we're going to the Smyth estate, and I didn't ask. I'm not sure I want to know."

"Not burning with curiosity?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't want to intrude. Have you noticed Darcy did _not_ look well when he was at Rosings?"

Charlotte didn't really want to reveal any more of Mr. Darcy's secrets than he chose to reveal, so she didn't mention that he looked even worse in woodsman's garb, or that he was even now only a mile or two away.

"Yes, I noticed. Do you know the cause of his distress?"

"Probably a woman. It usually is."

"Are there many women in Mr. Darcy's life?"

"None at all as far as I can tell. I'm sure the first one will turn him all asunder."

"And you're not curious about any such women?"

"As long as the woman isn't me, I'm satisfied. I think I may strangle my mother if she tries to get me to marry him again." Anne said with a laugh, much to Charlotte's delight.

"I take it you don't agree with her plan."

"He's my cousin! I've never thought of him that way, nor could I ever. I find that it's easier to let my mother have her say a few times a year and listen to her for a week; than to try to dissuade her and listen to her for a month."

Charlotte found she quite liked this version of Anne de Bourgh once she got out from under her mother's thumb. She would so dearly love to have a real friend in Rosings.

"How did Mr. Darcy explain your purpose?"

"He did not, nor does he need to. My mother doesn't realize we've been corresponding for years. I know him as well as I would a brother in the same house. At least that was true until last winter. Something happened to him, and he hasn't been the same since. Now he won't confide in me. I think he's afraid to burden me."

"Did he confide in you before that?" Charlotte asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Yes, I believe so… although I'm not sure he ever had anything very large to confide. Something big, maybe more than one thing happened last fall and winter, and whatever it is, he won't even tell his cousin the colonel."

"I'm afraid I cannot enlighten you, except to say that I may have witnessed some of the events, but the story is his to tell. I cannot betray his confidence, but I believe I am on a mission that may help him."

With that, they turned to less dangerous topics and passed the rest of the trip to the Smyth estate. Anne told Charlotte she would be back for her in two hours, and went off to visit another friend on a neighboring estate.

* * *

"We don't have a Miss Bennet here", the housekeeper informed Charlotte.

Charlotte was at a loss. She had deliberately applied to the housekeeper, thinking she could talk to Lizzy without any of Mr. Smythe's family being any the wiser. What she was doing wasn't so unusual, the parson's wife visiting a member of a household, but this house didn't belong to her parish and she did not want to be involved in any more subterfuge or conversations than necessary.

"Are you certain? I have a… somewhat personal matter to discuss with the young lady, and I was assured she was here… A Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"There is no Elizabeth Bennet here. The only person in this household with a similar name is a Miss Elizabeth Gardiner. Is it possible you have the names crossed, Mrs. Collins."

"Oh, silly me! I do believe I mixed up the surnames for two parishioners. I'm fortunate I came to the right place. Is Miss Gardiner available?"

"I believe so. She's Mr. Smyth's mother's companion, and she can no doubt be spared for a time. Would you care to sit in the small parlor to await her?"

"I thank you."

* * *

Charlotte almost didn't recognize Elizabeth. Her appearance was shocking. To someone who didn't know her well she would still look reasonable lovely, but to Charlotte she looked like she'd been run through a mill. She was clearly not eating right, as she had lost at least a stone. She was all skin and bones. Most shocking of all, her long hair that had gone nearly all the way down her back was cut back to just barely shoulder length, and worn with a very different style from her accustomed one. Where before, it had seemed always ready to escape its pins and cause mayhem, now it looked as if a hair was never out of place.

She was also missing the sparkle in her eyes that Charlotte had loved since she was a young girl traipsing around the countryside, happy as a lark. It was if she were trying to hide from the world, or maybe even hide from herself; because the woman she saw did not look at all like the Elizabeth Bennet she knew. Now, she was a serious woman, someone not to be trifled with, and she did not look happy to see her former best friend.

"Charlotte"

"Lizzy, I'm so happy to see you."

The last wasn't strictly true. She would have been very happy to see the Lizzy she loved, but she wasn't so sure about the woman she saw before her.

"I don't go by that name any more. I'm Elizabeth Gardiner now."

Charlotte could not have been more surprised if Elizabeth had slapped her. What had happened to her friend?

She waited for Elizabeth to add something else, but it looked like she might wait some time. Seeing no inclination Elizabeth planned to carry her share of the conversation, Charlotte continued.

"Liz… er… Elizabeth, I am so surprised to find you so close to Rosings. Had I known, I would have called sooner."

"Charlotte, I wish you hadn't called at all. What's wrong with you? Are you so secure in your position at Rosings you will risk your husband and patroness' censure. I know where Rosings is, and except for one unfortunate instance when I became lost, I have managed to avoid it entirely. I wish the colonel could have kept his silence, but I suppose he may not be a man who pays much attention to others' wants."

Charlotte really didn't know what to say to this, so she thought she must set about her purpose before she lost her nerve, or Elizabeth said something else to discompose her.

"Liz… Elizabeth, I have been charged with discreetly delivering a letter to you."

Thus spoken, she handed across the letter she had carried for her friend.

"Who is this from Charlotte? You're the only one I know here, and you can say whatever you have to say directly."

Charlotte, somewhat fearfully said, "It's from Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth looked alarmed, truly alarmed, like a frightened animal ready to run but unsure of which direction. To Charlotte's surprise, Elizabeth snatched the letter up from the table, ran over to the fire and cast it in. She did not leave the front of the fireplace until she was quite certain the letter was burned to nothing, even going so far as to stir the ashes with a poker, before slowly gaining her composure and returning to the table.

Charlotte watched her face go through several shades of anger. Charlotte had known Elizabeth Bennet for many years, and she knew white-hot anger when she saw it, although she was uncertain anyone else would have recognized it, and she prepared for the onslaught.

"How could you Charlotte! How could you! Perhaps the Bennet ladies reputations are beyond redemption, but how could you bring me a letter from an unmarried man. You could destroy everything. How could you!"

Elizabeth jumped up and looked ready to run from the parlor. Desperately, Charlotte reached out.

"Elizabeth, please don't go. Please! The letter is meant to help you, not harm you."

"A letter from Mr. Darcy? Not harm me! Have you gone mad!"

"Elizabeth, he's not the man you knew at Netherfield. He has changed, and I think he genuinely wants to help you."

"By destroying what's left of my reputation! By interfering in my tasks! I think not!"

"Elizabeth, he only asked to talk to you. That's all, just talk to you. He's gone to some trouble to find you. Won't you give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"I cannot. Please don't ask it of me."

"Why not"

Elizabeth blew out a shaky breath and sighed.

"Do you remember the big dog at Netherfield?"

The giant mastiff that looked the size of a pony?"

'The very one. Do you know he was my most trustworthy friend at Netherfield. He was the only being other than Jane that treated me with respect and constancy. He wanted nothing but my company, and the occasional stick."

"Admirable traits… in a dog."

"Yes, I loved that dog. But you know what. I would not let him into my kitchen or my parlor. Just his tail would be enough to destroy the lot, without even bothering with his drool. He is a beast that has his place, and he should stay in it."

"How does this pertain to Mr. Darcy?"

'He's like that dog. Wherever he goes, he swings his tail and things break. I cannot afford him in my house, Charlotte."

"Elizabeth, he feels responsible for Mary. He wants to make it up to you. Won't you give him a chance?"

"His chance was when Mary was standing in the ballroom humiliated by her own father, and afraid of her sisters. Yes, Charlotte I saw her eyes. She believed she could not trust me to make things better for her."

With a sad and resigned sigh Elizabeth said, "I failed her Charlotte. Right when she needed me most, I failed her. So did my entire family. Mr. Darcy was rude and arrogant to be sure. He may have pushed her the last little bit over the edge, but our family placed her on that ledge in the first place.

Please tell Mr. Darcy that I do not blame him. He is fully absolved. One uncharitable remark… well, actually two should not mark a man for his entire life. Tell him I truly, with all my heart wish him the best of health and happiness, and hold no ill will towards him.

Charlotte saw the determination in her eyes, and knew that there would be no discussing Mr. Darcy today. Perhaps in a fortnight or a month, but not today. It was all she could do to keep Elizabeth from bolting out the door and running off into the woods. She looked truly wild, and the reports from her mother did not seem quite so much like idle gossip anymore.

"Elizabeth, what do you mean by your 'tasks'?"

"Charlotte, I beg of you, don't ask me that. I cannot be dissuaded, and I cannot have others knowing my business. It's too important."

"Elizabeth, what are you planning?"

"I beg you Charlotte, do not ask me."

'Lizzy, what are you planning?"

"I cannot say"

Charlotte could see the need in her friend to say something, to trust someone; and she was also astute enough to know that Elizabeth had almost no trust left to give… anyone. Where was Jane? What was this mysterious task? Of one thing she was certain. Mr. Darcy would not be talking to Elizabeth Bennet this day if he wanted to have a civil conversation.

"Please Elizabeth, confide in me. I give you my word I will tell no one."

"Do not promise such things Charlotte. Your first duty is to your husband, your family just as my first duty is to mine. You do not want to know."

"Elizabeth, please share the burden. I can keep my own council, and I swear I will reveal it to nobody, but I beg of you, allow me this one intimacy."

Elizabeth sat down with a resigned air. Charlotte judged she had not confided in anybody in some time, perhaps not even Jane. Something was eating away at her soul, and it would take some time and effort to put her back at ease. Charlotte was nothing if not patient, and would take as much time as necessary. She wasn't so far from Rosings that she could not discreetly call for as long as it took with Anne's help, which she was sure would be forthcoming.

Charlotte waited a few minutes, for Elizabeth to start talking.

"Charlotte. The babes"

"Yes"

"Have you any idea how unprepared Longbourn is for them. How they will suffer. How they will be in turns neglected and despised even more than we ever were, and that's presuming my father doesn't just ship them off to someone else with a few pounds for their expense."

Charlotte had in truth not thought of them at all. It was certain the younger Bennet girls were unprepared to be mothers, but could it be that bad.

"Won't the girls learn to be mothers when the babes come?"

"Like my mother did? I think not. I've spent endless time talking with both. They openly admit that they will do nothing for the babes. Nothing at all! They just assume a nursemaid will appear from somewhere and they can go back to parties and flirting with officers."

"No, Elizabeth. That is impossible. Nobody is that bad."

Elizabeth hung her head and said, "My sisters are. My father is."

Charlotte sat in thoughtful contemplation for several minutes while Elizabeth waited for her to catch up with her in her thinking. Elizabeth had no doubt that any sane person would come to the same conclusion as she did, not that she was so absolutely certain she was sane anymore.

Finally, Charlotte answered.

"You are right. Life will be hard for the babes. Very hard indeed."

"No it will not!"

Charlotte started and stared. "Elizabeth, what are you planning?"

"These two babes will grow up with love, and sense and education. They will have the benefit of knowing every day of their lives that they are loved and treasured. That is our task. Jane is to take Kitty's babe, I will take Lydia's, and we will see them raised properly. They will have very little money, but will lack for nothing else.

We will be their loving mothers


	8. The Carter's Task – Nov 26 1811

_A/N: A lot of very good comments and questions on this story so thanks and keep them coming. It seems to have touched a nerve or two. The bigest questions amount to: Why is Elizabeth acting so crazy? Where the heck is Mary and why is she acting so crazy? Elizabeth's plan sucks, what was she thinking? Why is she afraid of Darcy? What happens with the next bunch of babies? How is she doing to live? Why is she afraid of Rosings? Doesn't she know she's next to the great estate? Why didn't she visit Charlotte? Wow, these guys are major OOC!_

This story is mostly about people reacting to _stress_ , and people don't always act rationally. Not everything they do will make sense… in fact, hardly any of it does. Elizabeth is a bit paranoid. She knows perfectly wells she's near Rosings, but doesn't want to meet anyone she knows. Mary is a bit frightened and distrustful. Darcy's off the charts internally and externally. Who knows what's up with Jane? It's all in the mix and I hope to make some of it clear with more chapters.

 _They can't do that. How can they possibly live? They have no money!  
_ I'm not an expert on the details, but I've done enough reading about Georgian economics, to think it was doable for the sisters, but this isn't a story about Georgian economics so I may cover it in notes somewhere else, but probably won't put it in the story directly.

* * *

"I beg your pardon Miss. Is there aught I might do to assist you?"

The young lady in question looked up at a boy of around fourteen years with a look of incomprehension on her face. She stared at the boy for quite some time, until he started to fidget. He began to wonder if he had acted inappropriately. She was clearly a gentlewoman, and probably not used to being addressed by such as him, particularly in a situation such as this. The boy at length decided he must have given offense.

"Your pardon ma'am. I'll not disturb you further."

With that, he flicked the reins on the old mule hitched to the cart and started back up the road. He was tired and still had work to do.

He went perhaps a half-dozen yards when he heard the lady say, "Wait, please."

Stopping the mule, he looked back to see what she desired; still a bit nervous. He had never talked to a gentlewoman before and was not sure now had been a good time to start. He waited to see what she would say.

"I thank you for your assistance, and apologize for my incivility. I'm having a difficult time. What brings you this way at this time?"

"I'm afraid I had a wheel come off the cart. It took me some time and assistance from a passerby to get it moving again. Now I'm quite late and my mother will be worried."

"I thank you for your concern, and appreciate your stopping. I will be fine, so please return to your mother."

The boy looked at her in disbelief, wondering if he could step out of his place. The young lady was clearly _not_ all right. She was missing her coat, shivering, and not at all prepared for a journey of any length, particularly however far it was to the nearest estate. His mother would have his hide if he left her here in on this cold November evening, no matter how late he was, so he set about doing the right thing.

"May I assist you home my lady. Truly, you do not seem prepared for this road. I have a blanket here and you could sit in the back of the cart."

The boy was quite proud of his speech. His mother had been teaching him to speak properly since he was a tyke, saying that there may come a time when he would need to do so, and he must be practiced in his courtesy; even if it was almost never necessary in his present life.

"Might I take you home Miss? It's frightfully cold here, and old Nellie has a few miles left in her."

"I cannot go home."

This mystified he boy. Perhaps the lady's father was _indisposed_ , as Peter's father was from time to time, and the young lady didn't want to tussle with him. Maybe there was damage on the road to her home. Maybe she just needed to wait for her father to fall asleep. He still felt a need to help her. He wasn't yet to the age where he would start thinking of her as a woman. He was still a bit childlike, and just didn't understand such things, but he was perfectly old enough to know you didn't leave a woman shivering on the side of the road.

"How long will it be until you are allowed home?" He asked. He needed to get to his own bed but could not until he had done his duty.

The young lady let out a very sad sigh, and looked at the ground at her feet. He could barely hear her reply.

"I don't believe I can ever go home!"

Such words were completely out of the boy's experience, and he had no idea how to proceed. He could see the young Miss shivering though, and he knew what to do about that.

"Miss. Would it be proper to ask you to use my blanket. I can even leave you with it if you desire. You truly look half-frozen."

The young lady gradually approached the cart, and gratefully accepted the blanket.

"I thank you sir."

"I'm no sir. I'm just a carter."

"You speak uncommonly well for a carter and you may have saved me from freezing to death. I will call you 'Sir' with pleasure. Might I have the pleasure of your name sir?"

The boy blushed at the request and stammered out his reply.

"Norman, ma'am. Norman Stewart at your service."

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr. Stewart. I'm Miss Mary Bennet."

"If you cannot go home, where can you go ma'am? A friend or acquaintance mayhap?"

"No, I'm afraid I cannot go to the home of any of my friends. At least not this night and possibly ever."

This seemed quite odd to Norman, but who was he to question a lady. His mother had taught him better.

"You cannot stay out in the cold all night. Could I take you to my mother? She'll know what to do."

Mary looked at him in confusion and indecision, but then absent a better plan she acquiesced.

"I thank you Mr. Stewart… with all my heart."

Mary climbed up beside the boy to ride the rest of the way to his mother's house. She never could remember all the obscure rules of propriety, so didn't know if she would ordinarily be censured for such behavior; but after her outburst of a half-hour ago, she doubted she had any reputation left to salvage anyway.

With a heavy heart, Mary left the site of her ultimate demise, the Netherfield ball.

* * *

Mrs. Stewart turned out to be a motherly woman of around forty years, who took a shine to Mary immediately and started fussing over the state of her health, her dress, her warmth and her son's deportment all in a flurry of words Mary could only half process in her distressed state. First, she had to make sure Mary was dry. Then she had to provide a better blanket than the 'disreputable' mess her son had proffered, even though Mary had not a single complaint about the original. Then she had to be set down by the fire, and inquiries made of her health, the state of her stomach (agitated) and anything else related to her comfort.

At last, Mary was warm, comfortable and dry; so it became time for the inevitable questions. Mrs. Stewart was astute enough to see Mary's distressed state; not that it required any very fine discernment. Mrs. Stewart was a gentle soul and she gradually extracted the entire story of Mary's humiliation, from the first to the last. Such was her kind nature and so unlike Mrs. Bennet or any of the other ladies of Mary's acquaintance; that she managed to extract nearly her entire life history over the next hour.

Mrs. Stewart was of the opinion that Mary should go home and face her consequences, but she was not certain. There was no doubt that Mary's outburst would have a terrible effect on the reputations of the Bennet sisters. Among the gentry, such things would hurt a woman's marital prospects; although in Mrs. Stewart's class, it would make very little difference. That was part of the disadvantage of being a gentlewoman. Very few would choose to give up their status, and even should they choose to do so, they were rarely trained in any useful trade, so it was a difficult path to walk.

Mrs. Stewart couldn't even be certain whether Mary's return to take her punishment would help or hurt her sisters. She was not a prolific gossip herself, but as a woman who did sewing and mending for her living, she was exposed to it often enough. There were certain groups of people in the town, both male and female, who really had nothing better to do than spread idle gossip. According to Mary, her mother was probably the worst practitioner in the village; and that accorded with Mrs. Stewart's experience. The path of gossip was difficult to predict. In some cases, should a person bravely face down the gossips, and take their lumps; the gossip would to die down as soon as some other juicy tidbit came along. In other cases, keeping yourself visible simply made you a bigger target, and the gossip would continue so long as there was the slightest chance of you further embarrassing yourself.

Mary's opinion was that she would rather leave Meryton forever then face up to the gauntlet, and Mrs. Stewart could not convince her that her path was incorrect. She believed that leaving was probably worse than staying, but she could see a determination in Mary's eyes that left her believing that regardless of whether she approved or not, Mary was to set her own course, and that course was _not_ back towards Longbourn.

Mrs. Stewart did her best to keep her own opinion of Mrs. Bennet from influencing any guidance she might give to the young girl. She had been near Mrs. Bennet for nigh on twenty years now, and her opinion of the matron was not the very good. Mrs. Bennet was a vicious gossip, eager to share the latest tale of woe, and particularly ignorant and unconcerned about her daughters. She was obsessed with getting her daughters married, to anybody, but beyond that, she seemed to have no particular regard for them. Even in that manner, she was more concerned about her own future than her daughters; and she would happily sacrifice any of her daughters for her own future felicity. It was clear that should Mary give her the opportunity to use her well or ill to advance her own goals; Mrs. Bennet would not hesitate in the slightest.

"Are you absolutely set on this course of leaving Meryton, Miss Bennet?"

"Mrs. Stewart, I have been around the center of Meryton gossip all my life. I know how it works. If I remain, I will be the center of it for quite some time. I am afraid I'm not up to the task. Right or wrong, I choose to go elsewhere. I believe that disappearing without a word will be the least damaging to my sisters. The only thing I can think of that would be less damaging would be for me to be found dead, and I'm not quite willing to go that far."

Mrs. Stewart did not like the sound of this, but she didn't believe she could convince the young girl otherwise. Perhaps if she assisted her, she might be able to come back and reconcile with the family after the gossip died down in a few months.

"Have you any family that you could apply to?"

"I have an uncle and aunt in town, but I do not wish to drag my problems into another household. They have their own children to raise, and their own concerns to deal with. I've made my bed, and I'll lie in it."

"Have you any money child?"

"Yes, I get the same pin money is my sisters, but I don't waste it on frippery's. I have nearly all of the money my father is ever given me in my home. It's enough to pay for a place to live and necessities for a year or more if I'm frugal."

"Does anybody know where it is, and how much you have?"

"I live in a house of five sisters, of which the one is Lydia Bennet. What do you think?"

Mrs. Wilson had to chuckle at that. There was no doubt that Mary's money was safely hidden or it would have been gong long ago. She was cleverer than her parents gave her credit for. It would be difficult, but Mrs. Stewart saw no alternative considering how determined Mary was. She still thought the girl was being foolish, but it wasn't for her to correct the young lady.

"Are you completely set on this course? You do not even want to leave a note?"

Mary looked at first pensive, but then determined.

"Neither my parents nor my sisters have earned a note. I will not be dissuaded. I must also beg you not to say a word. I would not have you and your son dragged into this mess, as it will get very ugly before it gets better."

Mary had no idea how ugly things would become. Years in the future, she would look back with great nostalgia at the time when her outburst at the Netherfield ball had been the worst calamity ever to befall the Bennet sisters.

If it was to be done, it must be done quickly.

"Norman. Hitch the wagon back up and take Miss Bennet out to Longbourn, but do it quietly and do not be seen. She has things to do, and must be back before sunup."

Mrs. Stewart was not in the least certain that she was doing the right thing, or that Mary was even in her completely right state of mind, but it was obvious that she would not be dissuaded in the least.

"Miss Bennet, I will direct you to my sister who may be able to help you find lodgings and work, but you understand you are setting yourself a very difficult path, and this choice may not be the best for your sisters."

"Mrs. Stewart, I appreciate what you've done, and I would not in any way wish to hurt you or your sister. If your sister can discreetly help me I would appreciate it, but I know what task is in front of me and I will face it with fortitude. At the very least, the next person to call me one of the silliest girls in England will be someone other than my father."

By the time the sun rose, Mary Bennet had already departed Netherfield with nothing more than her saved up money, and a few dresses and items she had taken from the house that would not be noticed. Her new life was to begin. Whether it was for good or ill remained to be determined. Whether she was being wise or foolish; benevolent or vindictive; brave or cowardly also remained undetermined; but either way she was now her own woman.


	9. Coming Out – June 1805

"Mama, I don't want to come out now. Why can't I wait a year?"

"Hush, child! Of course, you will come out. And I'm sure you'll have many eligible suitors lining up to court you."

"But, I don't want a suitor, Mama. I'm not old enough to be seriously considering matrimony. I would much rather wait a year, or even two. There is really no hurry."

"You hold your tongue you ungrateful girl. Have I raised you to talk back to your mother that way? You will be out, and you will entertain suitors. You can't be so beautiful for nothing, and I will not spend my dotage starving in the hedgerows because of an ungrateful child. You will come out, and you will do as is proper for a young lady. You will attract a suitor, and you will attach him."

"Mama, you are hardly ready for the hedgerows. Papa is hale and hearty. He has many years yet to live. Please, Mama! I am not ready."

"Your father could die tomorrow, and where would we be. Your cousin would throw us out in a fortnight. I will not be dissuaded. You will come out. You will be the most beautiful and best dressed girl in Meryton, and you will attract and keep a suitor."

Thus began Jane Bennet's seven year journey from coming out into Meryton society at fifteen to her ultimate collapse at two and twenty, but her fall was different from her sisters' in two ways. First, her fall was not so much like falling off a cliff, as poor hapless Mary had done. Nor was it a case of the entire cliff collapsing from under her as Elizabeth had experienced, although she would later have the dubious pleasure of going through that with Elizabeth as well. No, her fall was more like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. She was, she believed well and truly in love with a worthy and oh so eligible gentleman. He had everything a suitor should have. He was handsome and rich, both admirable qualities; but more importantly, he was the most amiable man of her acquaintance. A man she could well see bouncing her children on his knee, and sitting with her by the fire in her dotage. All of that came crashing down one night at a ball, with a few unkind words from his friend and her sister. Everything she thought she knew about herself, her family and her beau evaporated like smoke within minutes. Her fall to earth was harder than that of any of the other Bennet daughters, and her subsequent fall to the depths of the cliff was likewise more severe… _and nobody knew_.

It all began at fifteen when Jane Bennet learned a hard lesson. Conversations such as this were repeated often over the course of her first two years in society. Some were longer and some were shorter. Some ended in tears and shouting; while others ended just in tears; but the path of the conversations was as fixed as the North Star. Nobody and nothing could dislodge an idea from the head of Fanny Bennet once it was placed there, or at least Jane Bennet could not.

So, Jane Bennet adapted. Arguing with her mother produced nothing but more arguments, so she quit arguing. Looking vexed with her mother brought nothing but censure, so she ceased looking vexed. Chastising Lydia or Kitty for misbehavior produced nothing but ridicule from her father, or worse yet indifference; and outright censure from her mother; so Jane quit doing that as well. Bit by bit, year by year, no eligible suitors were found, and she joined Charlotte Lucas in another perceived lost season.

Finally, at long last, she found the man that she could truly esteem. She was cautious. Seven years in society had taught caution as the appropriate reaction; but she was optimistic for the first time in her life.

When everything crashed down, Jane Bennet collapsed in upon herself. Such was her ability to hide anything and everything going on inside her head, even the ever perceptive Elizabeth could not guess at the depths of her despair. Elizabeth found her salvation of sorts in self‑flagellation, but that avenue was too foreign to Jane. Her mother screamed, acted as if the world was entirely against her; and then abrogated all responsibility. Her father acted as if her mother were the only one at fault, and he likewise abrogated all responsibility. Mary was gone, so who knew what she thought about it all, or if she thought anything at all about her sisters. Kitty and Lydia need not even be mentioned in any serious conversation.

Jane Bennet lived a few months of quiet desperation, without a clue of where to go or what to do. No idea suited. No solution presented itself. After so many years as the best and brightest in Meryton society with only one eligible suitor, what hope did she have for a match? It was in every way hopeless.

Jane Bennet felt the depths of despair, even to the point where taking her own life did not sound like such a large step… until Lizzy came up with an idea. Lizzy, the clever… Lizzy, the perceptive…Lizzy, the probably insane. Lizzy's idea was quite possibly the worst idea in the history of England. It was unwise, irrational, irresponsible and in some ways downright vindictive. In fact, it had nothing whatsoever to recommend it, except for _one thing_. For both Lizzy and Jane, it was to be their only hope of salvation.

Jane understood Lizzy better than Lizzy understood herself, not that such knowledge would establish any boasting rights. Lizzy had taken the entire history of the Bennet sisters on her own shoulders as her own way of trying to make sense of the world. After a month of tearing herself to pieces, Jane could see that Lizzy was nigh-on ready to destroy herself and she needed to reestablish some self-respect if she had any hope of living a life of peace. Her plan was the road to that self-respect, and it was clear Elizabeth would pay any price or carry any burden to be able to esteem herself again. In fact, the heavier the burden, the more Lizzy would appreciate it as her penance.

Jane wasn't at all certain that she was responsible for _any_ of the calamity. All her life she had done what was asked of her, sometimes with a cheery disposition without complaint; and sometimes not; but she had always done what was asked, right or wrong. Here was a chance to truly do something unselfish and important for another person, and like Lizzy, she saw her own chance of redemption.

Once both sisters were sanguine about the plan, ill formed as it was; it remained only to be done. Lizzy was surprisingly fortunate to obtain positions for both ladies. The money for the employment was not that much. In fact, they would be lucky to replace the pin money their father was certain to withhold. However, Lizzy convinced Jane that she could encourage her father to give that money to the coming babes; and they would have just enough to make ends meet.

So it was with the first lightening of her heart in many months, that Jane Bennet left the day before Lizzy to enter the world of employment. They did not think they would see each other for six long months, and at that time, they would hopefully have healed enough of their hearts to give a piece to another.

Jane was to become governess to a family several days distance from Hertfordshire, in a village with a name that sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't place, nor could Lizzy. Being governess was probably a harder burden than the temporary companion position Lizzy obtained, but Jane thought it would suit her better. She couldn't bear the endless empty hours that a companion must suffer, and she thought the boundless energy of a few children might be just the tonic she needed. She craved industry, and that sounded like just the antidote. It was a chance to escape the hopeless air of Longbourn and Jane took it with a glad heart.


	10. Missing Person – May 4 1812

"She's not there."

"What do you mean, 'She's not there'?"

"Exactly what I said Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth isn't there. Anne and I went looking for her this afternoon, and the housekeeper said she left with her employer this very morning. The housekeeper didn't feel she had leave to tell me where she was going, but nothing seemed hurried or unplanned about it. I believe she left as scheduled and just didn't tell me it was planned, but I'm not certain."

Fitzwilliam Darcy blew out an exasperated breath in frustration. This was either the bravest or the stupidest girl in England. She was either the love of his life or his arch nemesis and agent of his destruction. She was going to be the saving or the ruination of him… if he could ever find her.

"I thank you Mrs. Collins. You have done me a service and I appreciate it. Do you have any idea _why_ she won't talk to me?"

Charlotte did not want to betray a confidence, but she also did not want to abandon a friend. What had been said in the strictest confidence could obviously not be shared, but perhaps she could share things that were not _strictly_ in confidence.

"Mr. Darcy, you should know that even before Mary's outburst, Elizabeth did not hold you in very high esteem?"

"The phrase ' _It's hardly any wonder Lizzy can't stand the sight of you.'_ may be burned into my memory forever."

"Yes, but do you remember the rest of what Mary said?"

"I remember it, but never understood it."

"Mr. Darcy, do you remember the night you came to Meryton… the assembly?"

"Yes…"

All of a sudden in an instant, it became clear to Darcy. What an idiot he was. What a twice over, double over, triple over fool. Until this very moment, he had completely forgotten what he said to Bingley that first night when he was still fretting over Georgiana.

"She heard me, didn't she?"

"Yes sir. She did. She made light of it, and repeated it, but it was more painful than she would ever admit, even to herself."

"And that was how we began."

"Yes. Do you want the rest?"

"Please"

"You obviously looked down on our society the whole time you were here, and Mr. Wickham told a story that seems farfetched to me, but Elizabeth and most of the rest of the community were well disposed to listen since it agreed with their opinions of you."

Darcy thought about that for a moment.

"She must despise me."

"That's not the worst. She does despise you… and always has. Now, she fears and distrusts you. She seems to have taken on all the burdens of the Bennet sisters, and based on what Mr. Wickham says, she believes you may mean her harm, or at the very least you may hurt her inadvertently. She compared you to your blundering dog."

"Favorable, or unfavorably"

"Perhaps both, but she doesn't realize it. For the moment, she only holds fear for you. She can't see beyond it. Perhaps someday, but not today."

Darcy hung his head, took a deep breath and blew it out.

"Did you trust me before I guaranteed your living, Mrs. Collins?"

Charlotte thought a moment and said, "I did not distrust you sir per-se but I _wa_ s wary. You carry a sizable shadow Mr. Darcy. We females have to be cautious."

"I thank you for your candor, Mrs. Collins. I know not how to fix this, but at least now I know what the problem is."

"And what will you do sir?"

"I don't know. I will find her and Miss Mary eventually. Beyond that I cannot say."

"One thing, Mr. Darcy"

"Yes"

"Elizabeth did say she loved your dog. Don't give up hope."

* * *

"Miss Gardiner, a word please"

Elizabeth looked to her employer in worry. Ever since Charlotte's visit she had been worried her friend may have inadvertently tipped over her precariously balanced cart. She couldn't blame Charlotte as she would never do anything like that maliciously or deliberately, but it did seem that she may have done so, or perhaps Mr. Darcy's mere presence in the county could disrupt her life; or maybe Mrs. Smyth just wanted to discuss dinner. There was only one way to find out.

"Yes ma'am"

Elizabeth felt fortunate to have acquired this position mostly by good fortune not long after she conceived her audacious but probably foolhardy plan. Mrs. Smyth had a companion who normally stayed with her, but that lady, a Mrs. Grove was to visit her daughter for a few months during convalescence from a riding accident. Mrs. Smyth was paying her a relatively generous amount for a companion due to the temporary nature of the engagement; and Elizabeth suspected, just to tweak her sons who actually paid it. Elizabeth did not want to lose this position.

"Miss Gardiner, you know that Margaret cannot keep a thought to herself. She loves nothing better than to report any odd thing she sees."

"I am aware"

"Naturally, she just had to mention you throwing a letter into the fireplace, and watching it burn, even going so far as to stir the ashes with a poker."

Elizabeth blew out a resigned sigh. She had spent her entire life with servants running all about the house, and like most people of her station, had learned to mostly ignore them. Perhaps this was her penance for not treating Margaret better. She had never been unkind to the girl, but she had never gone out of her way to be kind either. She couldn't have long conversations with everyone in the house, but she could be more friendly to those that she encountered frequently.

"Yes ma'am. She did see that, I'm afraid."

"You know I dislike gossip, Miss Gardiner."

"Yes ma'am, I do"

"Margaret should have kept her peace, but she did not and now I am obliged to ask. I will not ask whom the letter is from. That's not my business, but I must know. Is there gossip that may catch me unawares, Miss Gardiner?"

Elizabeth signed resignedly. This was the end of this part of the plan. She had hoped to save the money from six months of employment for after the babe joined her. Jane was doing the same, although Jane was not making quite as good of a stipend, so Elizabeth planned to share hers. Between the money both ladies had saved before leaving Longbourn, the savings from their six months of employment and the small amount her father set aside with Uncle Phillips, she hoped to be reasonably comfortable. Now, she seemed likely to lose this position without reference, and it would be that much more difficult.

There was nothing for it but to confess. She had been feeling ill about her treatment of Mrs. Smyth already, as the dowager as both a good employer and someone she genuinely esteemed. Deceiving her had been painful, but at least that was now to be finished.

"Mrs. Smyth, I'm afraid that there is gossip attached to my name. Quite a lot of it."

"I must know all, Miss Gardiner."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and set out to do the right thing.

"Mrs. Smyth, while I have the name "Gardiner" on my birth certificate; that is my mother's maiden name. My mother put down both surnames as a bit of an affectation I believe. I'm not being _precisely_ dishonest using that name, but I've spent my life with my father's surname. Until I came to your employ, I was Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire. My family is drawn into a most terrible scandal, and I have left my home to try to escape it and make my own way in the world."

"How bad is the scandal?"

"My next youngest sister publicly insulted a half-dozen of the gentry and my parents at a large ball. Then my two youngest sisters became with child, all within a month."

Mrs. Smyth looked ashen for a few moments.

"And are there any dishonorable acts you yourself participated in… I can no longer call you Miss Gardiner without qualms, nor do I wish to bandy about Miss Bennet. May I call you Elizabeth?"

"Of course"

"So back to the question Elizabeth, did you yourself participate in any dishonorable actions?"

"I failed my sisters. They all, except the eldest needed guidance, and I failed to provide for them or even try."

"And are you their mother?"

"With our mother, they needed all the help they could get."

Mrs. Smyth thought about this for some minutes, and then asked the question yet a third time.

"Were you _personally_ involved in anything dishonorable, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth admitted the one thought she had _not_ allowed herself for months, first out of despair, and then out of obligation for her tasks; or more likely just out of stubborn habit.

"No ma'am, I have not"

"And what do you plan to do when you leave my employment?"

"I intend to raise one of my sister's babes. She is a vain and selfish creature, and would do an abominable job as a mother."

"Is that your place? Your responsibility?"

"The child is a Bennet. I do not know if it is my responsibility, but I have chosen to make it so. Should my sister relent and desire the office herself, I will not dissuade her, but I don't hold out very much hope for that possibility."

Mrs. Smyth looked at the girl thoughtfully, as if gauging her sincerity, and came to a decision.

"And the letter"

"From a gentleman who wishes to parley with me for some reason"

"Do you know the reason?"

"He was unkind to my sister in her moment of weakness. He was instrumental in her downfall, although by no means the only one at fault. My friend claims he wants to apologize."

"Why not accept his apology?"

"I don't trust him"

"You think him dishonorable?"

"I know not, but his behavior since I met him was not such as to engender trust. Perhaps he is and perhaps he is not, but I don't intend to find out. I didn't think much of him before he abused my sister."

"Elizabeth, do you know what's left for a woman when she reaches seventy years?"

"No Mrs. Smyth. I hope to know one day, but I do not now."

"Don't be in too much of a hurry. At my age, I have my portion left by my father and my husband to live on, which is not as much as you would think. The lion's share went to my sons, as is customary. Do you know what else is left?"

"No, I do not"

"Amusement and diversion, Elizabeth. Amusement and diversion. I am amused and diverted by you."

"I am glad to be of service, ma'am", and Elizabeth actually chuckled.

"Elizabeth, you know we are leaving on the morrow? At my age, I find it more convenient to visit my sons for a few months until they get tired of me than to set up my own establishment, which I couldn't afford even if I wanted to. It is time to move on to my other son's house."

"Am I to go with you, ma'am? I will understand if not."

"Yes. You have done nothing to merit your discharge, and perhaps it's time to put some distance between you and your gentleman admirer. There is no need to tempt him with your proximity. That is, if you cannot be dissuaded from your path. He's clearly a rich man, and his apology might ease your life considerably."

"I'm not sure I'd call him an admirer. More likely a man trying to absolve his guilt, but I have already done so with a message through Mrs. Collins, so I think he must be satisfied."

"Elizabeth, my son that is hosting us now is the most genial man you ever met. If I left you here for a year, he would be happy to host you, if he even noticed the addition to his household; and he will never question someone that is known to me."

"I cannot stay here"

"I was not suggesting it, just telling you how things are. My other son is the most narrow-minded and suspicious man you will ever meet. Before you enter his house, he will subject you to an interrogation worthy of a suspected French spy. He will inevitably learn your secrets and cast you out. I could not prevent it."

"Then we are to part. I think you for the warning, Mrs. Smyth."

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet Elizabeth. I do not have a lot of money, in fact, almost none, but I believe there is more amusement and diversion to be had at your hand yet. I cannot help you very much, but I believe I can manage a little. We are not quite ready to part. I have someone I want you to meet."


	11. Talk to the Frog – May 4 1812

_A/N: A couple of things._

 _I've created a totally experimental forum where you can discuss whatever you like about this story. Feel free to comment there. Everyone can add topics or reply to anything, so play nicely. More importantly, it's where I may put **spoilers** so if you're having some angst about where the story is going (sorry, couldn't resist the double-angst reference), head over to __The Cliffs Forum._

 _Unfortunately, I can't get a hyperlink to work, but if you paste this after in your browser, it should work._

 _forum/Discussion-for-The-Cliffs-of-Hertfordshire/201414_

 _I_ _ _f it doesn't work, then go to Forums, select Books, then Pride and Prejudice and search the page for Cliffs.__

 _Look for a topic named "Spoilers". If you can't find it, PM me and I'lls end you a link.  
_

 _I added dates to all the chapter titles to help with the timeline, which is not necessarily linear._

 _Based on the reviews and comments, the impracticality of Elizabeth's plan is getting on just about everybody's nerves, and also might be just a teensy bit overdone on the angst angle, so I'm going to drop a longish chapter that may help with both. As always, my thanks for all the reviews and comments, which I find helpful and enlightening. Keep them coming._

 _I also have a comic relief chapter all ready to lighten things up (sort of), but it doesn't make sense in the current timeline just yet. I might just put it in anyway._

 _Last thing – I'm using a phrase here that I'm 100% certain isn't Regency, but I will ask your forbearance in advance._

 _Post-Edit: I rarely post-edit chapters, but a guest reviewer pointed out a pretty big hole in the argument bis-a-vis the Gardiners, so I've changed a few paragraphs to remove the glaring error. I DO read and react to guest reviews, but I obviously can't respond personally.  
_

* * *

"Elizabeth, we have several days to our destination, and ample time for conversation. Right now, I would like you to answer one important question, child."

Mrs. Smyth was giving Elizabeth an appraising look as she said this.

"Ask, and I shall oblige."

"Just what were you thinking, running off like that? Have you thought through this plan at all, because it sounds much like ill-conceived madness to me?"

"So why are you helping me, if I may be so impertinent as to ask?"

"The madness is the best part. I told you I find you amusing. I would find someone with a well thought out but dull plan much less to my liking. You'll understand when you have my years."

"I hope so, madam. What would you like to know?"

Mrs. Smyth gave Elizabeth an appraising look. The dowager _did_ have a good deal of experience in the world. She had _not_ been born a gentlewoman, nor did she have the best parents who ever lived. She married well to man who esteemed her and treated her well. Yes, Mrs. Smyth had done very well for herself, but she never forgot the lessons of her youth, and was not keen to see the young lady in front of her repeat them.

"You do realize your plan does not seem sound?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's obvious to the most casual observer. In fact, I heartily disapprove of it myself, and have no idea why my more sensible elder sister agreed."

"So explain it to me. What alternatives have you considered?"

"To what purpose?"

"You need to talk to the frog."

Elizabeth looked at her in perplexity. She was well read and reasonably educated, but had never heard that expression.

"Might you expand, milady?"

"My cleverest son keeps a wooden frog in his study that he's had since he was a child. When he was four years old, his father tried to take it from him and he carried on for a full week relentlessly until he got it back. He was the most stubborn child that ever lived. He has kept it with him ever since."

"I can't see how that applies, although should he wish to lend it to me, I'm certain I could find it useful", Elizabeth replied with a bit of a laugh.

Mrs. Smyth enjoyed the laugh. Elizabeth was a very tense girl, always seemingly walking on eggshells, but she didn't think that was her usual nature, and she wanted to try to see her true ways. She had four days for the task, so silly conversations were not uncalled for.

"When my son has a very difficult problem to solve, whether it's a tenant dispute, a decision about planting or harvesting or perhaps an investment decision; he explains the entire problem in the minutest detail to his wooden frog, and then he asks his opinion."

"And you think me mad?" Elizabeth said with another laugh.

Mrs. Smyth decided she quite liked her young charge's laugh, and would endeavor to hear it again.

"I asked him that once. He said, ' _We work out our problems by talking and listening, but mostly talking. The act of putting your thoughts in order well enough to explain them to someone else usually helps gives clarity to jumbled thoughts. The frog isn't as good as a mother for listening, but he_ _is_ _more reliably available, and he never gets bored, and has yet to drag me anywhere by my ears._ '"

Elizabeth laughed again, and then thought about the stratagem for a few minutes and said, "I think you're right. He must be your most clever son, because that sounds uncommonly wise."

"Elizabeth"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Talk to the frog"

Elizabeth blew out a breath, and set about putting her jumbled thoughts in order. She was quite comfortable being considered mad… she had thought of herself that way for some time, and she was certain her most sensible friend Charlotte agreed. However, she did not want to appear insensible or incoherent. If she was to be mad, it must be sensibly mad.

"Very well, Mrs. Frog"

That elicited a chuckle from Mrs. Smyth, so Elizabeth put her thoughts in some order, and began.

"My first option is I suppose to return to Longbourn and resume my life there. I could convince my father to restore my pin money. It doesn't come from the estate, but from my mother's portion at the four percents. I'm entitled to it, even after my parents' deaths. Still, it is under my father's control, but he could be worked upon to restore it, and my life could resume as it was in the madhouse."

"What has happened to your pin money?"

"My father withdrew it when I left, but I prevailed upon him to sign the proceeds over to one of the coming babes. My uncle is an attorney and he made the agreements. The stipend is under my uncle's control now."

"And is your uncle reliable?"

"I believe so. I trust him. He is a good man."

"How much is your portion?"

"50 pounds per annum"

"And should you follow through with your plan? What happens to this money?"

"Should I legally adopt the babe, the money will go to the babe but under my control as his mother, unless I marry in which case my husband would control it. I will use it to live if necessary, but I would prefer to save it as for when they grow."

"Back to the first alternative. Should you go back to Longbourn, what happens next?"

"I suppose I would try to resurrect my family. I would still feel responsible for the babe, but I would have both of my parents and my sisters interfering with every decision, and there is no guarantee my father won't just send the babe away as soon as he's born, or as soon as he finds it inconvenient. I would have very little control over my life."

"And what else? There must be more to your future than your sister's babe?"

"I cannot be optimistic about my prospects. My chances of advantageous marriage before all of this were slim. Jane is the most beautiful woman in Meryton, with every attribute any man could possibly want; but she was still unwed after seven years. The one man she ever gave her heart to abandoned her over five minutes of embarrassment, even before the troubles with my youngest sisters were known."

"That does not sound promising."

"Not in the least. You realize that regardless of which plan I adopt, I am likely to move to a lower station in life. I'm sanguine about that prospect, but I want to do it in the best way possible. I no longer need to be a gentlewoman. I just need to survive and be content."

"Suppose you go back, against all of these objections. What happens next?"

"I may be lucky enough to find a farmer or tradesman who would marry me to get the elevation of marrying a gentlewoman; or one might even be tempted by my admittedly small portion, but it would be a heavy burden for a man in that area. Putting up with the gossip and perfidity of the citizens of Meryton would require a strong willed man, and I've never met such a one. If they exist at all, there was no evidence of them before all of this began. If that is to be my objective, I could probably achieve it outside of Meryton and farther from the gossip more readily."

"So marriage prospects in Hertfordshire do not look promising?"

"Not in the least."

"What happens next?"

"I supposed life would go on as I described it. It is unlikely any of my sisters would marry advantageously, but with four left at home perhaps one or two might make a minimally acceptable match, sooner or later. I myself am not inclined to accept such a man, but perhaps some of my sisters would, eventually."

"And then what?"

"Sooner than we are prepared for it, my father will die. At that point, we would most likely be cast out of Longbourn. The estate is entailed on a distant cousin. He intended to make an offer to one of the sisters, probably myself, when he witnessed the start of his debacle. He's a silly and pretentious man, and I have no doubt he will cast us out almost immediately. We would have to set up a much more meager establishment, or move in with our relatives. Neither prospect appeals."

Mrs. Smythe looked at the girl pensively, thought about all that she had said, applied all of her knowledge of the world, and eventually came to a conclusion.

"Returning to Longbourn does not sound suitable."

"Can you imagine how I would answer the question of what's left for a woman of seventy years given that path? Now you see what drove me out in the first place."

Mrs. Smyth took several minutes to fully think through that alternative fully before venturing forth to the next topic.

"I can see why you disdain that plan. What is the next alternative?"

"I suppose I could do as my sister Mary did; abandon the family entirely and shift for myself."

"Do you suppose this would be better or worse?"

"Materially, it could go either way. I would have more choices, and I suppose I could eventually prevail upon my father to give back my portion; although that's not entirely certain. I would have more choices, but the choices would not necessarily be any more palatable. I could live a quiet life as a companion or a governess just as many have done before me, and many will after. It's even possible, and even probable that with enough time and exposure I would find a man worthy of my attentions, and may even entertain the idea of marriage and family. Or I might find a way to make my way in the world with a trade of some sort, but that is a difficult path for a woman."

"How would you accomplish this? What would it look like?"

"Given that alternative, my best course of action might be to engage my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner. They live in town, near Cheapside. They are in trade, and have enough contacts that they could probably introduce both Jane and myself to suitable men, given some time. My uncle is probably the one man who could convince my father to give back my portion. He has a stubborn streak, and my father cannot usually stand up to any concerted assault by another man. My uncle has a bit of your son in him."

"What's wrong with that plan? It sounds superior to yours in every way?"

Elizabeth thought this was getting to the heart of the matter.

"I cannot just abandon my sister's coming babes. I feel responsible for them… and no, you need not say it. Their mothers are my sisters, not my daughters; but I feel responsible. Right or wrong, I cannot just abandon them. I feel my fate is tied up in them, and if I do not somehow see that they are cared for, I would never be able to hold my head up in the world. I may marry well, and have my own family; but I feel I would forever be looking over my shoulder for the ones I left behind. I think it would break me."

"You take a lot upon yourself, with very little cause."

"People are not always wise, Mrs. Smyth, but even if this is the most foolish belief I've ever entertained, I cannot turn away from it. I've tried."

"So why not just ask your relatives to help you with your endeavor?"

"I suppose I probably should, since they are family. I just find that I cannot. They have their own children to deal with, and their own issues. My uncle's business does quite well, and he certainly could and would help if asked, but I don't believe it's right to prevail upon them to address the issues of my family. Right or wrong, I feel it is asking too much and I will not do that unless it becomes necessary."

Mrs. Smythe thought about that for a few minutes, and while once again she thought perhaps her charge was taking up more of a burden that was due, she could not really fault the logic. Since she did not know he Gardiners, she really couldn't assess whether Elizabeth was being overly scrupulous or not, but at least she had thought it through all the way. Perhaps after Elizabeth saw the difficulty of her path, she might rethink whether she needed assistance from her relatives in town or even her father.

"What other possibilities have you thought of?"

"I must confess, the rest are rather far-fetched."

"Enlighten me"

"I suppose I could go to town and become a mistress or a courtesan, but I must admit I probably lack both the skills and the wardrobe for such an endeavor."

"You wouldn't seriously consider such a drastic action!"

"Not ordinarily, but you did ask for every alternative. It is an ill-favored alternative to say the least, but I did consider it."

"Let's dismiss that one out of hand. It's worse than returning to Bedlam. What else?"

"The other is even more unlikely."

"Out with it!"

"I could marry a rich man!" Elizabeth said with a laugh. "Yes, yes. That's it. I can marry a rich man who is willing to raise my sister's bastards as his own. How hard can that be?", she finished off with a very Lydia-like snort.

"It may not be impossible. Perhaps your Mr. Darcy is just the man."

Elizabeth laughed until she cried, while Mrs. Smyth just looked on with a bemused expression.

"Care to explain what's so amusing?"

"Oh, he's certainly not _my_ Mr. Darcy. He's rich enough for sure. He could indeed support myself, my mother, all my sisters and all the rest of my relatives without even noticing the expense."

"So why not entertain the idea, or at least hear him out?"

Elizabeth sighed, and replied, "We have a mutual dislike going back almost to the beginning. I'm afraid he despises me."

"And do you despise him?"

"I did once. I might again if I were in his company. Now I find I just don't have the room to have any opinion about him. He is the past, and I must contemplate the future."

"He seemed to go to some trouble to talk to you."

"Yes, that was curious, but easily explained. You see, he was the very last straw for my sister Mary. He spoke unkindly to her during a moment when she was most distressed, and his words pushed her over the edge. He had nothing to do with my younger sisters' disgrace, but his words were the turning point for our downfall. I believe he feels some guilt over that, and wished to apologize."

"So why didn't you hear him out?"

"I just could not. I did however ask my friend Mrs. Collins to tell him that he is forgiven, should he need it. I can't think of any other business we might have together."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Yes, I feel I know the gentleman well enough to have his character sketched. He will be content with my pardon, such as it is, and will return to his own pursuits."

"You may come to regret turning him away."

"Yes, I daresay I might but I just cannot face him."

"Elizabeth"

"We have many practical topics to discuss, but for now I would like to think on what you've said."

"Agreed. I need to rethink them as well."


	12. The Schoolroom – Nov 26 1811

_A/N: I'm expanding Mary's story considerably, so I have a number of chapters in mind for her. Mary is already OOC, and her story will require yet more changes. If you're not getting your Lizzy Fix, be patient. She'll be back soon, complete with frog._

Much to her surprise, when Mary Bennet reached the bottom of her own personal cliff, she plunged abruptly, headlong, full speed, straight through the roof of a schoolhouse. The weeks and months ahead would tell whether the schoolmaster was to be harsh and demanding; gentle and nurturing; or perhaps both. She managed to slip away from the face of the cliff before the rest of it came tumbling down a month later, but it would be some time before she learned that.

Her very first lesson was about her place in the world and what she thought about it. Mary was much of a muchness with her sisters and most others of her class. She never really questioned how the world worked. She had leisure to read to her heart's content and practice the pianoforte for hours at a time because she was a gentlewoman. If she (or more likely Lizzy) got their petticoat muddy, they might expect a mild scolding from their mother; but they need not clean it. That was a job for servants, and unbeknownst to the girls, an hour's ramble might cause a servant an extra two hours work. Servants had their life, she had hers; and they were so separate as to be different worlds entirely. She had accepted this all her life as just and natural, much as a certain gentleman did.

Part and parcel of this belief in the natural order of the world was a feeling of some type of superiority for those of gentle birth. She would never have been vulgar enough to admit such a belief aloud, or even think of it as such; but it was there as the firm firmament of their lives. It was the way the world was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be. It required no further explanation; only learning to find her place in the natural order of the world and fit into it.

That belief system got a sound thrashing on the night of the Netherfield ball. In less than an hour, everything she thought she knew of her world was shaken to the core.

 _Lesson One_ came from two men who were definitely the two _highest ranking_ individuals she knew. Her father was a gentleman, an Oxford man, well educated, well read, master of an estate that would not be an embarrassment to anyone. Perhaps he didn't have the title of 'sir' that Sir William loved to bandy about, but there was no doubt that beyond the deference she owed him as her father; he was an individual most would think to be of considerable merit.

His standing paled though, when compared Mr. Darcy, of whom nobody in Hertfordshire even knew his given name. He was _Master of Pemberley_ , worth 10,000 per annum and probably more, very nearly a peer, from a long and distinguished line that apparently went back to William the Conqueror; or perhaps back to Noah himself. A member of the _haute ton_ , welcomed at Almacs or in fact any gathering in London society. He may as well have been royalty.

So it was, that the two loftiest individuals Mary would likely ever encountered in her life, apparently decided amongst themselves, to publicly humiliate a young and perhaps silly, but still vulnerable girl in the middle of the biggest ball she would ever attend, in front of nearly every single person she knew. If this was her due from the highest circles of society, she really cared for no part of it.

Less than hour later, she had _Lesson Two,_ in the form of one Norman Stewart, who could claim nothing more than a carter's living and a mother who loved him. Norman was a boy whom Mary would have been _completely_ unaware a day previously. It's not that she would have thought meanly of him, but she would not have thought about him at all. He was just another young carter, driving just another cart around, with just another load of whatever it was that he carried. Unless Norman ran her off the road or somehow splashed her with mud, she would never have given him a second though, or even a first thought.

Now, she found that a 14 year old boy who had been working since his father died two years previously; wo had worked from dawn to midnight while the Bennet girls were preparing for the ball; stopped and offered her a kindness just because it was the right thing to do. Norman would have never dared to talk to a gentlewoman before, correctly assuming that would likely earn him his share of censure; but he had screwed up his courage to assist her, just because he was kind and could see she was in distress.

So, two lessons were learned:

1\. Rich, top of society: Cruel to a fault, and consistently ill-mannered to boot

2\. Poor, bottom of society: Kindness and Generosity itself

Mary wasn't quite naïve enough to believe that truth would be universal, as that would have required a level of stupidity to match her sister Lydia. She could however see that she had misjudged those around her, and decided she would try to do so no more. From this day forward, she would at least try to judge people on their actions, rather than the accidents of their birth.

 _Lesson Three_ came in the form of Mrs. Stewart. A widow, doing her best to raise her son, in a society where a little bit of gossip could cut down her business considerably; and she had taken the bedraggled girl in and helped her without a second thought. As she explained it to poor confused Mary over tea the next day, it was simple; in fact, it was simplicity itself. Once you knew that your intention in life was to do the right thing, then when the right thing was presented as an option; it did not require thought. You just did it. The only time there should be indecision was if it was difficult to tell what the right thing was.

Mary had ample time on the day after the Netherfield ball to think on these lessons, and begin the process of her education. She knew there were many lessons still in store, but these would do for a start.

"Mary… I may call you Mary?"

"Of course, as long as I am allowed to call Norman, 'Sir'"

Norman blushed at this. He was still a young boy with a young boy's ways, and didn't really know how to handle even such teasing as Mary was capable of. He probably would have ended with his hair afire with five minutes exposure to Lizzy, so Mary considered him fortunate in his choice of rescue victims… not that the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet would ever need rescuing. Mary had to let out a little chuckle at that thought, which required some explanation for her hosts.

Mary found Mrs. Stewart to be the perfect host. Those of her class considered Mrs. Bennet a superb host who set a fine table, but Mary was beginning to realize that setting a fine table in Longbourn really meant making a few choices of what to eat, and having just barely enough sense to stay out of Mrs. Hill's way. She doubted her mother could even find the kitchen, although certainly Lizzy and Jane could. Mrs. Stewart fussed over her just like she would a daughter, or Mary suspected any guest. She would brook no opposition when she filled Mary's plate with victuals and insisted she eat every bite. She would not hear a word about using some of Mary's saved money as payment.

"Mary, that money may one day be the difference between yourself and starvation or worse. My advice to you is to spend it as sparingly as you can. If you are still set on this course of madness, then you must learn to earn your own way. It will be very difficult, but if you live on the dregs of the past, you will soon find your life has passing you by and you have nothing but regrets."

Mary thought through her next question very carefully, afraid of giving offense. "Do you have regrets, Mrs. Stewart?"

Mrs. Stewart laughed over such a question, before answering.

"No, my dear I do not. I had a fine husband who gave me many good years. I have a fine son who will grow to be a good and handsome man just like his father. I have enough work to keep a roof over our head, and some food in our bellies. No, my dear. I have no need to repine, and I regret not a single moment of it."

Mary had to wonder if anyone in her family could say that. Her father certainly regretted saddling himself with her mother, or at least he appeared to. He had been ridiculing her mercilessly for at least the last decade, and truth be told he probably blamed her for not delivering a son; as if it were somehow her fault with five live births and probably some miscarriages were not doing her duty. Yes, her father had regrets. Her mother probably regretted failing to land a richer or better connected husband; or perhaps she regretted marrying a man who revelled in making her appear ridiculous. Yes, there were regrets aplenty in the Bennet household.

Mary had never really questioned whether any of her sisters had regrets or not. Jane had been hunting a suitor for a very long time, so she probably did; but you could never tell much of anything about what Jane felt about anything. Mary suspected her outburst might have cost Jane Mr. Bingley's suit, although if that was all it took to send him scampering she was well quit of him. But in days ahead, would she regret the actions of yesterday? How long would her sisters regret her outburst? No, this was _Lesson Four_. It was very difficult to have a life without regrets like Mrs. Stewart, but Mary would aspire to it.

Mary Bennet took her _Lesson Five_ hidden in the back of Mrs. Stewart's workroom. Part of the lesson was in sewing, which Mary had been doing all her life with more or less enthusiasm; and the lesson was cleverly disguised as her helping Mrs. Stewart with her business. Like most of her station, Mary sewed some of her own clothes, but not all. She did not have the skills of a true seamstress, but she also could not afford to have all of the work done for her.

Mary had pin money of 50 pounds per annum as her share of her mother's portion. He could have had that income for the rest of her life without last night's outburst, and would probably be entitled to it right now if she merely went back to take her lumps. However, after her hard lessons of the last day she was unprepared to do so. Her younger sisters spent the entirety of their allowances and more on clothing, ribbons, bonnets and the like. Lydia even borrowed money constantly, which she never paid back, and took many presents from her mother, which made her father complain it cost him near 100 pounds per annum. Mary was different. She preferred plain dresses, and wore the plainest she could manage without her mother throwing a fit. There were limits to how plain Fanny Bennet would allow her daughter to go, but once that level was established, Mary had saved her money well hidden from the younger sisters. She had nearly 70 pounds saved away, and was carrying that with her.

"Mary dear, the first thing we need do is hide that money away. It will be difficult enough for you to keep it in future, and impossible if it's visible. Let's make you a proper purse for it."

The next hour or so was spent making a small purse that Mary could tie around her waist and her upper thigh in a clever way that left nothing visible to any observer. If anyone ever got at her purse there, she would most likely already have much worse problems than the loss of her savings.

"Next we need to make you less… less… well, just less."

Mary was confused by such a statement, but Mrs. Stewart continued.

"Your dresses will attract attention if you're seen riding about with such as my son, or the other carters you will have to contend with. You could ride a post coach but it would not take long for you to both use up all your money, and probably be accosted by some less than gentlemanly conduct when it becomes clear you are a gentlewoman but unprotected. No, it's the carters for you, and you need a lesser dress. You cannot appear as a lady for a time, until you settle somewhere and may reestablish yourself."

Mary was at a loss as to how to make this come about, but after rummaging around in the back room of the house, they found a plain, workingwoman's dress with a matching apron that would just fit Mary. Her luck was improving. Mrs. Stewart would not take a farthing for the dress, but Mary eventually convinced her to keep her dress from the Netherfield ball. In the _very_ unlikely event Mary was ever prevailed upon to go to a ball again, she could not imagine looking upon that dress with any less then abhorrence. Mrs. Stewart fussed over it as it was clearly a quite expensive dress and could be worth something, but Mary would brook no opposition in her desire to trade the dresses like for like, and Mrs. Stewart eventually decided that Mary just _might_ have the implacable stubbornness she was going to need to survive.

Next came her hair. Mary had always worn her hair as plain as her mother would let her, but it was nowhere near plain enough for a working woman, and its cut made it difficult to handle without someone to help her put it up, so it had to go. Much like her sister Lizzy would decide later, a shorter style would be easier to manage, and it remained only to find a plain style that would not attract undue attention. She had miles to travel, and places to see and she wanted to be noticed as little as possible. Under no conditions did she want to be recognized as a gentlewoman, for no good was likely to come of that.

An early morning discussion between mother and son had determined that the morning of the second day after the ball was the soonest that Norman could obtain a load that he could use to get Mary out of town without being noticed; particularly as he would need to avoid those who would no doubt be looking for the missing girl today. Mary hid in the back of the house where she could hear the goings on in the street but not be seen, and waited in fear for her sisters to come looking for her… and waited… and waited… and waited…

By the end of the day, Mrs. Stewart was astounded to learn that nobody was searching for her wayward charge. Not a single word was heard about her absence from the neighborhood. Oh, there was gossip aplenty. Mary's set down at the ball was now legendary, and was discussed in the minutest detail by anybody and everybody. According to the gossip, Mary had either said an unkind word or two; or had burned Netherfield to the ground with her words, or possibly literally. That seemed the most likely explanation for the endless stream of carriages that went through town just after luncheon. It seemed like the entire Netherfield party had decamped to parts unknown, baggage, servants and all. But of sisters, servants or townspeople searching for Mary… not a word… not a peep… not a whisper. Everyone in Meryton assumed she was licking her wounds at Longbourn, which would have made sense except for the lack of sisters quietly searching. Was it possible her sisters had not even noticed her absence? Yes, it did in fact seem possible; and Mary was finding _Lesson Six_ very much _not_ to her liking. It accorded with her newer and more fatalistic view of the world; but it did not cast her sisters or parents in a very amiable light; nor did it make her in any hurry to reconcile with them. Perhaps she would come to regret her actions more than she currently did, but that regrets was to be for the future. For now, she needed to worry about the present.

Norman managed to secure a load of grain to deliver the next day. Mary was to hide in the bed of the wagon covered by a blanket until they left the immediate environs of Meryton; then sit beside Norman for the rest of the trip. With her new dress and apron and the sturdy half-boots she had taken from Longbourn; an old travel bag that belonged to her grandmother; and the added subterfuge of a matron's cap (for which she might feel guilty later), Mary thought herself quite indistinguishable from an ordinary farmer's wife, and thought she could travel with ease and comfort if not speed with young Sir Norman. She loved to tease him about that, which was a new skill. Mary thought that in a few years time he would make a find husband for some lucky but as yet unknown girl, and wondered if she would eventually become her matchmaking mother. Her laugh brought a quizzical look from Sir Norman, but she could not be prevailed upon to explain it.

After a quiet night spent in a pallet in the corner of Mrs. Stewart's room, Mary woke up with the dawn, ate a breakfast of bread and porridge; and left with Norman to begin the next lesson. The afternoon sun found her 15 miles away in the village of Hatfield, where young Norman was to deliver his load, and arrange with another carter that was known and trusted by Mrs. Stewart, who would take her to the next village.


	13. The Devil's Workshop – Feb-May 1812

Jane Bennet always thought the old homily about idle hands was a bit silly. It was just the sort of thing said by people who were _actually_ idle; to cast aspersions on those who were not, or to make excuses for why someone else should not enjoy the leisure that they took for granted. Of course, it was not as if Jane Bennet had thought over much about it. Deep thinking wasn't really her forte… that was more Lizzy's province. The expression made no sense, until now. Now idleness, her lifelong companion was just a distant memory, and she found that at least for the moment, she did not miss it as much as she thought she might. Idle hands lead to brooding. Idle time lead to recriminations. Idle thoughts sometimes lead to despair, idle time at Longbourn around her family lead to frustration and carefully hidden seething anger. All of this she saw and felt, but showing such feelings to the world was not for Jane Bennet. No, at least for the moment Jane felt that the constant bustle at the bottom of her personal cliff might be her salvation.

Lizzy had somehow, within just a few weeks managed to procure positions for both of them. Jane still didn't know how she had accomplished it, but wasn't one to fret about such things. Two positions were open for two sisters, so all was right with the world. Lizzy had felt bad that one appeared to be a lot more work for less money then the other and wanted to take the supposedly disadvantageous position for herself, but Jane would brook no opposition. They were to pool their resources at the end of the six months anyway, so what did it matter which sister did which job, but more importantly, Jane did not want idle time to brood. She also did not _really_ want to take the responsibility for figuring out how the sisters were to execute Lizzy's mad plan. Thinking, studying and brooding were to be Elizabeth's lot, and Jane just had to work. Lizzy had six months to find Selena establish,ent for them, while Jane had only to be prepared and make some blunt.

She found that the work was actually extensive, much more so than she had ever thought possible. With three charges under her control it seemed like she was busy from morning to night every day. There was always something to be done; some lesson to be taught; some meal to be prepared for; some event to be dressed for; some dispute to be settled. For the first time in her adult life she had some grudging respect for her mother. Certainly her mother was silly and ridiculous, but she had raised five daughters without a governess, and it must have been very difficult at times. Jane thought that she might improve with practice, but for the moment, her three charges seemed to consume all of her time.

At seven years of age, her youngest charge Amelia was her most difficult, and yet her most enjoyable… or at least she was when Jane didn't feel like screaming at her. Vivacious and personable, the little girl was a veritable force of nature who would get her way no matter what was required to achieve it. One day this would serve her her well, if she could survive her childhood. Whether the weapon of choice was sweetness and light; a screaming fit;flattery; relentlessly working on her chosen opponent; or just plain implacable stubbornness, the little girl got her way much more often than was appropriate or prudent, but Jane did not have the heart to be more disciplined with her. There would be ample time for the little girl to become dissatisfied with the world later, and so long as she didn't grow up too wild like Jane's younger sisters, all would be well. Jane just could not believe that the danger was there, and hoped that her lack of discipline wouldn't play out badly for her charge. She remembered the lesson of Lydia all too well so knew that she must be gently bent to the right path, but thought it would also be so easy to break the youngster so she thought she must weave a careful path. She only hoped the next governess would be as diligent.

At nine years, Mathew was a poet at heart, or at least he fancied that he was. Give him a book or parchment and quill and he was quite content for hours at a time… at least as long as the book was a story and not a mathematics text, and the parchment was to be used for his own amusements and not for exercises. Getting him to do his language, or mathematics work, or any lessons other than reading and writing was nigh on impossible. He loved all stories, so history, philosophy, classics and novels were all to his liking and the only difficulty was tearing him away from them for his dinner. Getting him to do his other work took all of Janes efforts though. She tried everything she could think of, including the few tricks that had worked on Lydia and Kitty in their youth before they became completely wild, with little effect. Jane was mostly unsuccessful in her endeavors to keep him on task, until she came up with the obvious strategy. She simply engaged Amelia in the battle, and it soon became apparent who had the heart and the discipline to prevail. Mathew really never stood a chance against Amalia alone, let alone both of them.

At twelve years, Martin was nearly done with the schoolroom and would be sent to Eaton or another boarding school nearly as soon as Jane's tenure was complete. He was more studious and serious than Mathew, and worked diligently at his subjects, but he didn't quite know what to do with the governess. Caught in that awkward age between a boy and a young man, he didn't quite fit into either. Jane thought he would have been better off with a male tutor, but such was not her decision, or even something of which she was entitled to an opinion.

From breakfast to bedtime every day, Jane was engaged in one activity or another with the children. Aside from seeing what went on in the house around her as they moved from the schoolroom to the yard, or into the local village for exercise or visiting with neighbors; she did not pay so very strict attention to what else happened in the house, but she did notice.

What she saw was that her employer, Mrs. Dunn lived the life that Jane Bennet had been born to live. She entertained her friends at precise times deemed appropriate by the rules of propriety. They stayed no longer than the prescribed time for a polite visit, and on occasion where Jane heard their conversations, they seemed to stay well within the bounds of polite society and polite conversation. If they shared gossip about the neighborhood, they did so with twittering fans and the words whispered behind their hands. They went to visit each other, one coming to one house or the other going out with a calculated frequency, designed to precisely fit into their place in society. They drank precise amounts of tea from carefully presented trays. They all remembered how the others took their tea so it was always prepared perfectly and delivered with a smile.

Jane observed all of this for the first several months of her employment, and came to a startling conclusion… _that life might drive her mad_. It was the only life she ever had ever know, the only life she ever aspired to, the only life she could even imagine… and the dullest existence she could fathom. To the best of her observation, Mrs. Dunn didn't _do anything._ Of course, there was nothing surprising about this, except that Jane noticed and disapproved.

Jane was not naïve enough to believe that life was a bed of roses for the lower classes. In fact, she knew for a fact it could be and frequently was brutal for the servants classes, and even for the other working classes. In the end, she wasn't at all certain she was making the right choice. In her old life, she had an annual allowance of 50 pounds, for which she was expected to do… precisely nothing. She was to call and be called upon. She was expected to take care of household accounts, which meant taking money from her husband and distributing it to servants, all according to a schedule she didn't really control. She was expected to set a good table, which was mostly just picking the right things to serve, and seating the guests in the way least likely to have one of them stab one of the others with a fish knife. Admittedly, the last of those might be more complicated than it sounds, but it was hardly managing an empire. In this life, her children would be raised by governesses, such as she was now raising Mrs. Dunn's children.. Her husband would spend much time, maybe most of his time, in his own pursuits, and she would be left to the mercy of the neighborhood women.

She knew that she was looking at her new experience in the working class with a kinder eye than most would. As a governess, she was receiving 35 pounds per annum, and that was above average for this type of work. Lizzy had done well. The maids of all work only made 15-20 pounds per annum, and they worked hard from dawn to dusk every day. A shopkeeper's assistant might only make 25 pounds, and would have to pay for food, clothing and a place to live out of it.

Jane Bennet was certain the new life she had chosen for herself, or at least she had let Lizzy choose for her would be much harder than her old life. It would be more fraught with danger. It would be harder. It would consume much more of her waking hours than she could ever have imagined… but curiously, she was not afraid of it. For the first time in her life, Jane Bennet felt like she was in control of _something._ Nobody was telling her how to dress, how to try to attract a man, how she was supposed to trade on her youth and beauty to support her indolent mother, how she was supposed to be serene and unaffected, how she was to… well, the rest of it really did not matter.

Right or wrong, the disasters of the Bennet family had tumbled her down a cliff that very nearly destroyed her, and may yet do so. She was in every way in a more precarious position than she had been even during the worst of her worries about being _on the shelf,_ which always seemed to be looming. No, in the end, Jane Bennet quite preferred the bottom of the cliff, and she began to worry that she may have enjoyed the ride down just a bit too much. It wouldn't really matter until August when she was to meet with Lizzy to take on the next part of the Great Bennet Sister's Mad Plan, but she hoped when the time came, she could settle down and be happy. Perhaps there was a husband in her future that _wasn't_ a spineless quitter, but even if not, she would have her sister, they would have the two otherwise unwanted babes and perhaps someday husbands and babes of their own, and they would be content.

Jane Bennet only knew one thing for certain. To the best of her ability, except for the one visit that was due, she would strive to never step foot in Longbourn again.


	14. Life in the Hedgerows– May 5 1812

_A/N: This chapter is aimed for those of you that are worried that Lizzy and Jane will starve in the hedgerows. It's a little on the geeky detail-oriented side, so if that suits your nature (you know it does – you're just itching for the details, aren't you), read and enjoy. Ever since I started this story, I wanted to know if Lizzy's plan was workable (not a good plan, just could it be done), or if I painted myself into a corner. Turns out it can be done. In fact, millions of women have been doing it since the dawn of time; but I wanted to see just how hard it would be in Regency England. Join Mrs. Frog in examining Lizzy's Plan. We'll be back to the real action next chapter._

* * *

"Elizabeth"

"Yes, Mrs. Frog?"

"I believe it's time to talk about the details of this plan of yours. I understand why you disdain your old life at Longbourn. I even think I understand why you won't talk to your rich suitor. I can even go so far as to appreciate why you're doing this. Now we need to talk about the how."

"He's not my suitor, Mrs. Smyth. He's just a rich man that I was acquainted with once."

"Be that as it may, the die is cast on that score, so let's discuss it no more. We need to determine how you are to live."

"I appreciate the help. Have you any thoughts?"

"Yes. Let's start with basics, shall we? You and your sister are to raise two babes. Do you intend to set up an establishment together?"

"Yes. Jane took a temporary position as governess to make some money. As you know, our allowances will go to the babes and we will control it. We had nearly 100 pounds between us when we left Longbourn, and between our two positions we will gain another 35 pounds before we need to set up an establishment."

"So, that's 135 pounds between the two of you? And should you have need; your uncle will have another 100 pounds per annum for the children?"

"Yes"

"And should you become desperate, will your father or your other uncle in town come to your aid?"

"I'm certain my Uncle Gardiner will. I realize I have an advantage over many other working women in that I do have someone to help me should the need arise, and I take some comfort from that. I would much prefer that Jane and I make our own way in the world, but I have the comfort of family that will assist. For that matter, my Uncle Philips in Meryton would assist us if necessary as well, so we are not really cast adrift. And of course, there's always the chance that one or both of us will marry, which would change everything."

"You didn't answer about your father."

"I have no idea what my father will or will not do any more."

"All right. We'll leave it at that. Would you expect to work for your living?"

"I hardly see how it can be avoided if we don't intend to consume the children's inheritance. Both of us will have to be employed eventually, but we may be able to alternate in the first year."

"Have you any idea what kind of living you can expect. What will you do?"

Elizabeth blew out a breath. There were no perfect answers to the question, probably only good enough answers.

"I've been talking to people to see what is available for women in our situation. Being a companion or governess may still work for us. We have the education for both, which gives us an advantage over many other working mothers. The problem is both of those are live-in situations with long hours that don't usually allow for children. If one of us works, we could make 30-40 pounds per annum, but she would hardly ever see the children which would mostly defeat the whole scheme."

"Yes, I can see that. What other alternatives are there."

"If we're lucky, one of us may be engaged as a tutor. It would be difficult to find the situation as most girls are taught by their governesses or sent to school, and most men want male tutors for their sons; but it is a possibility. We both have the education for it, or at least I do. Jane would not do quite as well."

"What other alternatives have you considered? I want to be sure you've thought this through?"

"There are various manual tasks that can be done in the home, such as spinning or plaiting straw. They only pay about 15-20 pounds per annum; about the same as a lower servant but we could do them from home. It's barely enough to survive if both of us work at it, but better than nothing. It might do for a time, but not long term."

Mrs. Smyth thought about that for a few moments, doing sums in her head and saw that Elizabeth was at least prepared and had done her investigations. Now it was time to discuss the other side of the ledger.

"What do you expect for expenses?"

Lizzy thought about the things that had been around and around in her head for the last several months.

"It depends on how high of a style we wish to live, doesn't it? We obviously can't live as the gentlewomen we once were, so we would need to consider the expenses in a different light."

"Continue"

"We will need a wet nurse for at least the first year, unless we drag our sister along or stay in Longbourn until the children are weaned. We've already discussed and dismissed that possibility, so we will need a wet nurse. That will cost a shilling a week. If we find we need to be employed outside the home, we will also need to pay for a nursemaid, although the wet nurse may do both. That all adds up to 2-5 pounds per year to take care of the children."

"And what else?"

"We will obviously need a place to live, and food on the table. A very simple set of rooms or shared lodging will cost 3-5 pounds per annum. A small cottage would be 10-15 pounds. We will need clothing for ourselves and the children. That will be another 5-10 pounds per annum if we are very economical and do most of our own sewing. We will need 10-15 pounds for food. We must assume some costs to travel to see family from time to time, as we will most likely reconcile sooner or later. Add in medicines, laundry, uniforms for our employment, and unexpected expenses will take another 5 pounds. All told, we will need 50 pounds per annum to get by, and 70 pounds to live reasonably well."

Elizabeth reached into her travel bag and handed Mrs. Smyth the parchment she had been using to make notes of her investigations. It had been pure bad luck when the colonel found her in Rosings that day, as she had spent nearly every free moment working on her research, and that was the only afternoon she had taken off since arriving in Kent. She had talked to everyone she could find that might help her around the Smyth estate, and even into the village, and she thought she had covered everything she needed to as closely as she could in advance.

Mrs. Smyth examined the figures, matched them up with what she knew, recalculated the sums and their conclusion.

"So you're starting with enough to live reasonably well for two years?"

"Yes, that appears to be so, if we are careful with our expense, and don't have any sickness or disease or other disasters. More if we consume our old allowance that goes to the babes. We can't live the life we lived previously, but we _can_ live the life we want to give to the children. If we live economically, and start bringing in some reasonable income during the first year, it can be done."

"Elizabeth, perhaps in the end you aren't quite as barking mad as it appeared at first."

"Thank you… I think"

"Elizabeth, this is very good. I admire your work. Now, I want you to meet someone. I believe I may have an even better situation for you and your sister. I have a friend that needs someone just like you, and I think you can be of mutual benefit."


	15. Wash Day – Nov 29 1811

_A/N: I've now found Mary's story to be quite compelling, or at least it is in my head. I almost ignored Mary after her initial outburst, but the more I think about her story the more I want to see her do something interesting and maybe unexpected. This is the first rather longish chapter that will start getting Mary's timeline caught up with her sisters. Fair warning though, she does have some hard times in front of her but I think you'll like the Mary that comes out the other end. As always, I appreciate all the reviews and feedback, which are very helpful. Wade_

* * *

Mrs. Braxton, the wife of Sir Norman's carter friend looked at the young lady her husband dragged into the house with a look of curiosity, if not precisely welcome. This was a most unusual, perhaps unique step for her husband and she wondered what had gotten into the man.

"And who do we have here, Mr. Braxton?"

"Young master Stewart asked me, as a personal favor, to deliver her to his aunt in Wellom. Seems Mrs. Stewart took a shine to the young lady. I didn't know what to do with her, so I brought her for your advice. I can deliver her to the boarding house, but I desired your opinion first."

Mr. Braxton had no illusions about who was in charge in his home, and found that the easiest path through life was to simply do his work and follow his wife's lead. Of course, his wife was nearly always right so doing so saved him a lot of fretting and worrying over nothing.

"And who might you be, young lady?"

"Mary, ma'am"

Mrs. Braxton noticed that the young lady wasn't in any hurry to give her surname, and was mildly curious about it, but not overly concerned. The shortest glance would tell anyone that the mousy little creature was completely harmless; probably wouldn't even know how to go about making mischief, in the unlikely event she chose to cause some. Now perhaps with some instruction from her youngest she might be brought up to scratch on trouble making, but she was clearly harmless unless someone came chasing after her.

She examined the young lady in a little more detail, and noticed that something about her just didn't seem to fit. After looking her up and down once or twice, she reached out and took the young girl's hands, turned them over and examined them. The girl meekly acquiesced without a word. Now it all made sense. Soft hands. Not a mark or callous on them. These hands had never done a day's work in their life, except for the sewing and embroidery that young gentlewomen did. Yes, this was a gentlewoman, who had gone to some trouble to disguise herself in a workingwoman's dress. Mrs. Braxton correctly surmised that there was going to be a story here, and probably an unpleasant one, but she wasn't unduly concerned. The gentry got into big fusses about little things all the time, and so long as she didn't bring trouble on her house, she could be generous.

"Well then, Mary. You are off to Wellom then are you?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"And Mr. Braxton is anybody likely to come looking for this youngling in our home?"

"I don't believe so. I met young Norman outside the village, and don't believe anybody saw me bring her here. Norman says nobody from her home knows where she is, so I doubt any real trouble will befall us."

"And what do you say young Mary? Are you going to bring trouble down on my house?"

Mary was not about to start telling untruths now, but neither was she in any great hurry to tell the entire story either.

"Ma'am, I have embarrassed my family greatly; probably at the cost of my sister's reputations and chances at good marriages. I decided to leave, to attempt to keep the stain from spreading. I believe with my absence, things may settle down over time, but not if I remain as a convenient target for gossip."

Mrs. Braxton thought the whole things sounded like a load of hogwash, just the sort of thing the gentry got up to when they didn't have enough real work to amuse them. However, she doubted it would have any real effect on her, and she did like the timid little thing. Little mouse or not, the girl had left everything she knew with apparently no help at all. She clearly didn't know what she was getting herself into, but that wasn't for Mrs. Braxton to be concerned about.

"And when will you be going to Wellom then husband?"

"In a se'nnight. I have the load to deliver for Mr. Franklin."

Mrs. Braxton made her decision.

"I'll not be having your first night truly away from your home in a boardinghouse, although you know you're probably bound for that sooner or later?"

"Yes, ma'am. I believe I know my fate."

"Just so, young miss. I confess I don't understand it, but it's not my concern. You may stay here, but you'll have to work for your keep."

Mary looked at the matron in relief. She knew that she would soon have to start making her way in the world, but doing so in a few days would be better than doing so now. She also knew that following Mrs. Stewart's advice, she would need to learn how to do the things that could earn her place. She trusted Mrs. Braxton, but decided she would keep Mrs. Stewart's council about keeping her finance secret from everyone. Except for a few pence she carried in a pocket of her dress, she would keep the bulk of her money well hidden.

"I would be most pleased to help with anything I may do, ma'am. I'm afraid you probably already know I don't know how to do very much, but I am willing to learn and I'll work hard. I shan't disappoint you."

"Oh learn, you shall my girl… learn you shall… You know you won't be able to keep those soft hands in this new path you've chosen for yourself?"

"Yes ma'am. I suspect I have many lessons to learn, and now is as good a time as any to get started."

Mrs. Braxton set about managing the family's preparations for supper, and told her oldest daughter, Margaret to instruct the newcomer. Margaret found it quite amusing how little Mary actually knew about supper preparations, or just about anything practical for that matter. She barely knew anything at all about preparing the meal, or organizing the table, or even taking care of the younglings. Margaret had to show her just about everything, from the easiest way to carry buckets of water from the village well, to how to best trim the candles to make them last longest, even how to clean dishes. She shuddered to think what Mary would do when they had to kill and pluck chickens, but didn't mention that one just yet. Margaret peppered Mary with an endless series of questions about where she came from and how she got there. She became quite flustered with Mary's lack of response and wouldn't leave off until her mother threatened her with a wooden spoon.

Mary was amazed at the sheer amount of simple things she didn't know about the simple act of preparing a meal. At Longbourn, all the food was prepared by Mrs. Hill and the other servants, and it just appeared on the table at mealtimes. The food in this household was to be prepared and delivered personally. Mrs. Braxton took the time to explain some of what she was doing as she went along, but she didn't really have the time or the inclination for many details, so she mostly left that to Margaret. That seemed a good plan, except Margaret wanted to trade tit for tat, one bit of news or gossip for a little bit of knowledge, but Mary wasn't willing or even able to carry her share of the conversation. She didn't want to talk about where she was from, let alone the village gossip. In fact, despite being in the center of Meryton gossip, she never really paid any attention to it anyway.

The fact that Mary couldn't keep up her end of the conversation didn't dissuade Margaret at all… in fact, it just let her talk more; but she wasn't willing to give Mary the instruction she craved, so Mary had to make due with the stories of the goings on in the local village. It turned out that the villagers had mostly different circles from the local gentry, and even had she been willing to talk about Meryton, she wouldn't have had any of the kind of tales Margaret was interested in. Mrs. Bennet mostly concerned herself with the local families of consequence, and ignored the ordinary villagers. For their part, the villagers took any sport they could from the local gentry, but otherwise mostly ignored them. It was almost as if they didn't share the same village amongst themselves. Mary didn't understand any of that the first night, but she did begin to get an inkling of the idea. She would never have had a chance to talk to Margaret in her previous life, even had she desired to. Now she found that Margaret had hopes and dreams just like any other young girl. She had her eye on a young man in the village and was looking forward to the idea of marriage, although she didn't actually know much more about the institution than Mary did. All in all, Mary mostly found the exercise exhausting after a long day.

Supper was mutton, bread and apple pie. It was simple fare, but Mary enjoyed it. Afterwards, she managed to help with the cleanup with a bit of direction from Margaret, and then she was asked if she could possibly read to the family. Here was something she could do, and they passed away a quiet evening while she read, Mrs. Braxton did a bit of sewing for the girls, and Mr. Braxton enjoyed his pipe. Soon enough, it was time to bed down on the floor near the fire, and Mary was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Dawn came early for Mary. She had never had to get up that early in the morning before. The only one at Longbourn who got up so early was Lizzy and she only did it to go on her early morning rambles, which she mostly did to avoid their mother. Mary was a little surprised about the things she was learning about life. For example, now that she thought about it, she knew that Lizzy would frequently stop by the kitchen for a snack on her way out to her walks. The fact that she could do this reliably meant that the kitchen staff must be up and working that early every morning. This was going to be an education.

"And have you slept well on our floor, young Mary? I bet it doesn't compare to the beds you're used to?"

Mary eyed her speculatively, trying to discern if she was being teased; and if so, in what way. Lizzy would be so much better at this. She was always better at discerning what people were about, but Lizzy wasn't here. Jane wasn't here. It was time for Mary to learn to make her own way in the world.

"I slept well, Mrs. Braxton and found the floor much to my liking, Thank you!"

Mrs. Braxton just laughed in amusement. She found the young girl hopelessly naïve, and hoped life wouldn't hand her any lessons that were more than she could bear.

"Today is wash day. You came at just the right time. I'm quite sure you'll enjoy it."

Mary wasn't so certain of her enjoyment of the practice, but if she was going to make her way in the world she needed to know how to do the things that would be expected of her. She couldn't imagine making her living as a maid or washerwoman, but it may come down to that when all was said and done. Mary had learned almost nothing of the way of finance or costs, so she didn't know if the seventy pounds she carried would last a week or a year. She had no idea how much it cost to keep a roof over her head, or a fire in the hearth, or food in her belly. She suspected if she tried to live as a gentlewoman, the money she had would disappear before she knew it; but she had no idea how long it would last with simpler living. She had no idea how much it would cost to be treated if she got sick. She had many things to learn about the way of the world, but for the moment, she thought she would just follow Mrs. Stewart's advice. She would do her best to earn her daily bread, and keep her savings for reserve.

"I'll be happy to do my share. I hope you will instruct me?"

"Of course, dear. I'll be happy to", laughed Mrs. Braxton.

Mary's first task was to gather up the chamber pots from the house, and take the urine to a barrel that was kept outside just for this task. There as another barrel that was used to keep ashes from the fire. Mary learned that the Braxtons burned wood sometimes and coal other times. The wood ash was useful for making lye, as it had been done for centuries. Ashes from the fire were stored in a barrel with holes in it and lined with hay. One of the women would pour water through the ashes, and lye would come out the bottom. It took quite a lot of work just to do this as the water had to be hauled from the well, but Mary would not have to participate in that as it wasn't done on wash day.

All the clothing from the last fortnight was gathered and taken to a common area in the center of the village that was shared by several families. There, a large copper put was used to heat water. Mary was set to carrying wood for the fire, and splitting it, all of which was quite new to her. Then she had to carry water from the well, which was much heavier than she expected, then get more wood and more water, in a seemingly endless stream. Several families where sharing the burden of the washday, and Mrs. Braxton wasn't shy about offering up Mary's services for fetching and carrying.

The clothes were first examined for stains, and some stains might be removed by soaking in lye, or maybe with soap created from urine boiled with animal fat. Mrs. Braxton tended to use soap for spot cleaning, and fortunately for Mary she had already made that as well as the lye earlier. Most of the stain removal couldn't be done until later, but Mrs. Braxton preferred to examine the laundry carefully before starting so she know what was to come.

Once any initial big stains were removed, the clothing was put into the put, and hot water poured in from the kettle. Then the clothes had to be stirred with a large paddle for a quarter of an hour; before it was removed from the wash to have any stains removed with more soap or lye. Stains were removed by rubbing with soap, and then beating the clothes with a large bat, much as it had been done by the side of the river by woman since time immemorial. The biggest change in the modern world was use of hot water instead of river water. Mrs. Braxton had learned it from her mother, who learned it from hers without very much change or improvement in some time. The process or stirring and then beating the clothes was hot, sticky, wet and tiring work; and Mary felt read sores starting on her hands before the first hour was out, and numerous blisters were well formed and broken before the end of the day.

All of this carrying of water, carrying of wood, and beating and preparing the clothing had her nearly worn out before the morning meal. They took a breakfast of meat left over from the previous evening's meat, porridge and milk before returning to their labors, which were ultimately to consume all the waking hours of the day.

After the stain removal, some of the clothes were ready and had only to be spread out to dry, while most of the underclothing had to be soaked in the large bucking tub to be further cleaned and whitened. Most of the laundry was the small clothes kept next to the skin, such as shifts and smallclothes. Outer clothing would be washed much less often as long as it was reasonably clean, and even if it was stained, they would just remove the stain instead of doing a full wash. Mary even got a first-hand look at some muddy petticoats, and got a bigger appreciation for the work Lizzy must have caused their servants at Longbourn.

All of this was hot, exhausting work and Mary felt ready collapse before the midday meal. After a meal and almost no rest, it was back to the task at hand. By the time all the laundry was spread out to dry, some on trees and bushes, some in the grass she was completely done in. Margaret on the other hand felt like she had just had a holiday, since Mary had done a lot of the work she normally did, and would do again next laundry day.

Mrs. Braxton took pity on Mary and didn't ask her to help with the evening meal, and even kept Margaret from bothering her; so Mary gratefully collapsed into her now accustomed place by the fire and was fast asleep before dark.

The remainder of the se'nnight passed much as the first day did, except most days' work wasn't quite as bad as laundry day. After the clothing dried, it all had to be folded and put away. There was always cooking and cleaning and mending and childcare and more cooking and more cleaning and more mending to be done. There was always water and wood or coal to be carried. There was always ashes to be removed and lye to be made. Mary even got the dubious pleasure of learning to pluck chickens.

On the morning of the day she was to leave, Mary did so with a bittersweet feeling. She was being worked as she had never been worked before. She couldn't reckon whether Mrs. Braxton was trying to teach her all she could in a se'nnight as her charitable duty; whether she was trying to get all the work out of her she could while she was there; or trying to scare her back to her father's house. Either way, Mary survived it and found a small sense of belonging with the family that she hadn't quite ever felt with her own parents in her own home. Mrs. Braxton treated her kindly, and Margaret seemed to look up to her; when she wasn't ridiculing her. It was a complex feeling that she would need to reflect on with moments of leisure.

One thing was certain though. With four children of her own to feed, no matter how hard Mary was willing to work, she could not stay there, nor did she want to settle down in a village so close to Longbourn. Sooner or later, someone would pass through that knew her, and she could not abide that.

She was grateful for the week's respite though, and she managed to extract a few shillings from her savings, and left them where they could only be discovered by Mrs. Braxton, and only after Mary was long gone. The family had done her a good turn, and she wished to repay in kind.


	16. The Luck of the Wheel – Dec 13 1811

A/N: Caution! This is the roughest chapter of the whole story! Things get better (with some surprising twists) after this one, so stick with me. Wade

* * *

Mary stayed a full fortnight with the Braxtons, working hard for her keep each day. Finally, the time came to leave, but on the trip, Mary began to wonder if she somehow carried bad fortune for wagon wheels as part of her fate. First, she had been rescued by Sir Norman only because the poor lad had a broken wheel on his wagon that delayed his return to Meryton until nearly midnight. That allowed him to rescue Mary from her ill-fated attendance at the Netherfield ball, so in that case she was glad for her sake, but sad for the boy's efforts. On the other hand, she thought somewhat impertinently, she had probably been the most exciting thing to happen to him all year, or perhaps ever. In the end, she was certain young Norman didn't mind the loss of the evening.

Now, she found herself stuck on the road to Wellom with Mr. Braxton with yet another problematic wheel. This one seemed to be more serious than the one that affected Norman, but Mr. Braxton thought that he could fix it given some time. Mary was thankful that Mr. Braxton was a skilled wagon master, and he had heard the rear wheel acting badly before it broke or came off the axle. He managed to stop the mules in good order before the damage was too extensive or the wagon beyond repair.

He had the materials to do the repair, but couldn't do so with a full wagon, so the pair set about the arduous task of removing the load from the cart, which took a good two hours. Then Mr. Braxton spent another two hours or more repairing the wheel, after which the stock all had to be reloaded. By the time the job was done, quite a good part of the day was gone.

The pair continued towards Wellom, but if he was to get back before full dark, Mr. Braxton couldn't afford the time to go all the way into the village. It seemed the closest he would come to the village was a mile or so, and Mary told him that she would be quite all right walking into the village on her own. She did that sort of thing all the time in Meryton, and couldn't imagine this place being any different. Lizzy would walk five miles and think nothing of it. Mary thought it couldn't be so very difficult to find Mrs. Stewart's sister. Though Mr. Braxton was reluctant, Mary eventually prevailed upon him to be on his way.

With a good deal of thanks, Mary said goodbye to Mr. Braxton a mile or two outside the village, and took up her travel bag to go the rest of the way on foot. The week's exertions had left her with blisters on her feet as well as on her hands, but she was certain that after a bit of walking the pain would ease and her feet would be fine. If not, well it was time for her to toughen up anyway.

Mr. Braxton was to unload his cargo and immediately return home before he had to spend a night away. He sometimes stayed overnight when he had a long-distance load, but not often. Mary was loathe to impose the expense on him and she was equally certain she wouldn't allow him to pay his lodging herself, so walking into the village alone was to be her choice.

The mile that Mr. Braxton reckoned it must be to the village turned out to be more like two or more, and Mary had to stop to rest her sore feet several times so it was nearly dark by the time she arrived. Mary knew the sister's name, so she was looking for a Mrs. Morton. She also had her direction from Mrs. Stewart but did not know the layout of the village at all.

Most of the villagers were to their houses for the evening by the time Mary entered the village, and she set carefully about asking for direction to Mrs. Morton's house. Mrs. Stewart had sent word ahead via post that Mary would be coming, but Mary had no way to know if it had been received. Mary knew that Mrs. Morton was a widow and would have to pay the postage for the letter so there was a chance she had not accepted it at all, or that it had not even arrived. There was no point in fretting about that now though, so she set about finding the matron.

Mary asked direction from a few villagers on the street, and even tried to screw up her courage to knock on one of the doors. In the end, she found a washerwoman walking by who was familiar with the direction and willing to tell her where to go. Unfortunately, the home was outside the village, on the far side so Mary had to walk all the way through and out the other side to travel to the home.

Mary arrived at the house just as full dark was falling, and started counting her good fortune that she had encountered the washerwoman, when said fortune deserted her. She found the dwelling, which had been described in considerable detail by the kindly washerwoman; only to find the house cold, dark and quite empty. There was no sign of Mrs. Morton anywhere about, and Mary was at a loss as to what to do. She could not abide the idea of just staying in someone else's house without permission, or even entering it; nor did she think such actions would enamor her with either the owner or anyone else who discovered her. She had not for a moment considered that the widow wouldn't be home when she made her plans with Mrs. Stewart, and she was certain Mrs. Stewart hadn't considered the possibility either. Mrs. Morton had been widowed for years, her children had all moved some distance away or died and she never went anywhere. How could she be missing?

By the time Mary was certain that Mrs. Morton definitely wasn't there, it was full dark, and a bit cloudy so visibility was not good at all. Either she had to stay in Mrs. Morton's house, with the risk of being called a thief or worse; or she would need to return to the village and seek a boardinghouse. She remembered seeing one on the far side of the village, and she thought she would rather go there as was proper than risk staying in a stranger's house uninvited. She had no way of knowing at the time that Mrs. Morton had died the previous week, and would never be there to greet her, nor would she have minded Mary using her home.

It was full dark and cloudy when Marry came back into the village and started trying to pick her way back to the boarding house. As she walked by the tavern in the center of the village she was accosted by two drunkards who started yelling at her.

"What's this? What a pretty little thing. Come along her girl!"

"Come here Missy! I've got something for you!"

"You don't know what you're missing!"

At first, Mary was mortified but convinced the men were offensive but harmless, when she saw them start egging each other on to greater and more offensive exploits, and finally they were joined by a third and they started coming towards her en-masse.

"Come along Youngling. What are you doing out all alone after dark? I think it's time for you to learn what happens to loose women that wander about."

"What's your price young thing? Certainly, you can't be trying to get more. Come along now and we'll be done in a trice."

Mary was mortified to find that they might think her some type of woman of loose morals, and even more frightened that they might just take what they wanted without her leave. They might even force her, right here in the village for all she knew. There were certainly no villagers coming to prevent it. Certainly if they got her in their clutches and found her money, it would be gone forever along with her virtue. She couldn't even seek protection in the tavern, since they were between her and the door; and she was too frightened and addle-brained to go to a house asking for help.

With a frightened cry, Mary hitched up her skirts and ran from the men as fast as her legs could carry her. A glance backward showed the wisdom of that course, as the three immediately started giving chase, and even though they had been drinking for some time, it was clear they could move faster than she could.

Fear gave Mary new strength and speed. Her blisters were forgotten. Her fatigue was forgotten. She just ran, and ran and ran. She had been near the edge of the village when she started running, so she ran down the road in the full dark chased by the men until she got just ahead enough of them to jump from the road and hide behind a tree as they came running after, yelling and searching for her.

Mary hid behind the tree trying to control her ragged breathing as she heard the ruffians going down the road shouting, and then froze in fear when the men came back again. She thought they would just give up, but that was not to be the way of it. They wandered up and down the road searching for her for what seemed like hours, even occasionally going off into the woods and searching, although in her frightened state, she could hardly tell a minute from a day. She could not move out of fright, and she was certain they might find her at any time.

After some time, she finally heard all the men congregate not a dozen yards from where she hid, and to pass around a bottle one of them brought along, talking loudly about the one that got away. They were most distressed with their lack of success, but finally gave it up to go and seek out their beds, or possibly a more accommodating; or at least slower female.

Mary lay behind the tree shivering, afraid to move or think for the next several hours. She was surprised to find herself falling asleep very briefly late in the night, and woke up near freezing to death lying on the ground in just her dress and pelisse by the sound of the coachman's horn of a mail coach. It was just past dawn when the coach came into the village, and Mary decided that she didn't care what it cost; she was going to get herself free of this village and those men no matter what it took. They would be there tonight as well as they had been the previous night, and Mary wanted no part of it, nor any village that would apparently welcome such behavior; or at least did not have anyone to censure it.

Mary got up from her hiding place, and ran headlong into the village. She arrived just in time to see a mail coach changing horses, with the coachman wandering around the yard of the changing station as if he owned the place. He was clearly the master of this coach and all within it.

Mary approached the coachman to ask after the purchase of a ticket. He told her that all the inside seats had been taken, but that she could ride on the roof for half price. Mary was happy just to go _anywhere_ that wasn't here, and agreed readily, even though she was half-frozen and nearly starved.

The coachman turned out to be a kindly older gentleman named Mr. Ross who allowed Mary to sit on the seat next to him; instead of on the top of the coach with her legs hanging off as was the usual custom. Mary knew that her family or just about any member of the gentry would be mortified at her traveling alone, let alone sitting alone with a man on the top of the coach, but she found a worthy companion in Mr. Ross and had no cause for alarm. They set out along the road, and he spent some minutes getting the horses settled into their traces and onto a good pace working together.

"You look half frozen child. Why don't you use that blanket under the seat. I won't need it for a bit."

Since Mr. Ross was in a high quality greatcoat, and Mary was just in her pelisse, Mary accepted his generosity and thanked him warmly.

They rode on in companionable silence for a bit, and Mr. Ross decided to strike up a bit of a conversation.

"Don't see many pretty young ladies willing to ride atop the coach", he said as he gave a good size spit of his chewing tobacco over the side of the coach.

Mary was revolted by the display, but also somewhat fascinated. She had never seen the practice in her life, and wasn't sure she ever wanted to again; but there was something… maybe genuine about Mr. Ross. He knew his place, and she thought maybe he was content with it. She did know that coachmen were a well-respected profession, and this man seemed to have his horses and coach well in hand. She decided to answer in kind.

"My mother would dispute with you about whether you have a pretty young lady on the coach with you even now, but I thank you for the compliment, and for the conveyance which is most well met. I've had a difficult night, sir."

Mr. Ross looked at her with a look of incomprehension, as if she had just sprouted horns.

"Your mother thinks you're not pretty!"

"Yes, I believe so. Either that, or she believes it will somehow build character to tell me so, whether true or not."

Mr. Ross, not one to mince words, simply replied, " _Your mother is an idiot!_ Begging your pardon Miss. If you find that word offensive, I can try another."

Mary had to laugh at that. It was perhaps her first true moment of contented peace since the Netherfield ball. Mr. Ross seemed to have a way about him that made her trust him.

"Are the other words kinder than that one?"

Mr. Ross had to laugh at that one.

"No, Miss. I'm afraid that was the kindest one I could work. I can give you some worse ones if you like."

Mary looked a bit sad.

"I won't be saying any such words to my mother for some time, if ever, so I thank you but I should be fine with that one." Then she let out a short pause and finally said, "But if I do ever see her again, I can assure you sir that world will be most acceptable, and I will remember your wise council as I use it."

Mr. Ross laughed on that until he started coughing, which lead to more choking, and spitting over the side, although truth be told Mary wasn't completely certain it all went over the side and not into the window.

Once Mr. Ross regained his good regulation, he pulled out a hip flask and shared a dollop with Mary, after which it was her time to hack and cough for a bit, although she did refrain from the spitting. She had some food that Mrs. Braxton put in her travel bag and she had completely forgotten, so she pulled out mutton, bread and cheese to share it with Mr. Ross. He was reluctant to take it at first, but Mary had learned just enough stubbornness from Mrs. Braxton's youngest, and he eventually acquiesced.

"Miss, I'm guessing from your hands and your way of walking you're going somewhere in a hurry?"

"Yes, Mr. Ross, I am!"

"I'll be wishing you good fortune Miss. Do you know where you're going?"

"Does it matter?"

Mr. Ross looked thoughtful and said, "Probably not. Wherever it is, you'll still be you."

"Exactly sir"

They then talked of this and that for some time. Mr. Ross had lost two sons in the rebellion in the Americas, and had three more fighting the madness in France right now. He doubted he would ever see them again. He had a daughter who died of Scarlet Fever several years ago who Mary reminded him of, which was the original reason he extended such kindness to her… well, aside from the rare pleasure of sharing a seat with a pretty lady for a few hours.

As the wagon travelled along at what Mr. Ross told her was a good pace of 6 miles per hour, Mary began to pay the toll for the long weeks of travel and fear, and the long night hidden in the woods. She eventually succumbed and was occasionally mortified to find herself asleep leaning against Mr. Ross's shoulder. She wasn't quite mortified enough to wake up, but it was bad enough, but she didn't think he minded all that much.

Finally, after about six hours and two stops of less than ten minutes apiece, they reached the end of the line for Mr. Ross.

"Miss Mary. This is it. This is where I leave you."

"Do you live here Mr. Ross?"

"No my dear, I don't. I'll be resting here for the evening, and I'll leave at dawn back where we came from in another coach."

Mary reflected that she was going to miss the older gentleman, who mayhap reminded her of what a better version of her father might have been.

"Where are we Mr. Ross?"

Mr. Ross looked at her carefully before replying, "Does it matter?"

Mary blew out a breath and replied,

"Probably not. Wherever it is, it will do for now. I thank you for delivering me safely, Mrs. Ross."

Mr. Ross simply nodded his head in welcome, and gave her some parting advice.

"There's a women's boarding house four doors down. Go there and you should be able to find some comfort, and companions and maybe some work if you need it."

"I thank you Mr. Ross."

Mary found the boardinghouse right where the coachman told her it would be. There she found a matron who ran the house like an army barracks. Mrs. Hewes did not put up with any nonsense in her house. She offered Mary a cot in a room shared by 4 washerwomen, although one of them looked deathly ill. The price was reasonable enough, and for the first time in her life; Mary entered a room and felt like she belonged there. After the previous evening, four walls, a ceiling and a blanket were all that was required to be right with the world.


	17. Echoes of Badajoz – May 11 1812

_A/N: For all of you who've been patiently waiting for your Lizzy Fix, here you go. If you're burning with curiosity about where Mary is, I put a spoiler in the forum. See chapter 11 for directions on finding it._

 _Enjoy. Wade_

* * *

Elizabeth stepped down from Mrs. Smyth's carriage and looked around with some satisfaction. The village they were in was neat, clean and orderly. The buildings were made of good quality materials, the roads were clean and the people walking about all looked friendly and inviting. All in all, she thought she might like this place very well indeed; if this was the place Mrs. Frog planned to place her. None of that was the best part though. Mrs. Smyth had stopped directly in front of Wolcott's Books, a small and very tidy appearing establishment that reminded her of the bookstore she loved in Meryton.

Elizabeth had loved books all her life. She always thought before the events of a few months ago that she was her father's favorite, loved just slightly more than her sisters, all because her father seemed to love her wit and spending time with her. Thinking back, she wondered if he really loved her, or just loved someone else who could talk to him about books. In the end, Elizabeth thought it might have been nothing but happenstance that put her in her father's favor, rather than any personal merit.

When they were small children, Jane didn't really have that much interest in books. That suited her mother very well indeed, as Mrs. Bennet was already grooming her eldest and favorite for what she foresaw would be a life of glory, starting with a triumphant marriage to a rich and eligible man. Mrs. Bennet had the whole wedding planned before Jane could even get beyond the stage where boys were still throwing frogs down her dresses and pulling on her braids.

Of course, Mr. Bennet was planning his own glories. He would pass on a prosperous estate to a son, and his legacy would be secured in a dotage devoted to good port and good books under the watchful eye of his benevolent son. With these two factors, Jane never really developed an interest in reading, and nobody regretted the loss.

By the time Lizzy was seven, she had developed some interest in books, just as the fifth daughter, Lydia was well past the walking stage and well into the talking stage that would probably last the rest of her natural life and perhaps beyond the grave. Elizabeth found her admittedly limited patience severely tried by the younger girl's incessant chatter, so she sought refuge in the one place in the house where Lydia wasn't both tolerated and encouraged; her father's bookroom. Her father would welcome her for her daily visit, particularly as time went by and he spent more and more time with his books and less and less time managing the estate that would be lost to his wastrel of a cousin.

"Well, well, Lizzy. What is it to be today? Will it be knights and princesses? Perhaps dragons are of interest! Might I interest you in Latin or maybe Greek?"

"Papa, you know I'm much too old to be reading about knights and princesses."

"Of course my dear, I had quite forgotten that you were at the advanced age of seven years and beyond such pretensions."

"Yes, yes. Do not forget father."

"Consider the lesson learned child. I will trouble you with knights and dragons no more!"

"Well… I can see that you are bent on having your way, so perhaps just this one time I will indulge you."

"I appreciate your condescension and indulgence, my girl."

With such conversations, father and daughter would settle down to their respective books, each happy with the present company, and through their indifference showing their disinterest in the rest of the goings on in the household. Lizzy loved her elder sister Jane, but was mostly indifferent to the younger ones.

Other days were devoted to Latin or Chess, which her father taught her with abandon. He loved the game and could see no other efficient way to play regularly than to make a competent opponent out of whole cloth. He was a strict taskmaster as long as she wanted to stay in the bookroom with him, and she gradually acquired an education worthy of any son. Of course, none but her father _really_ knew how extensive her education was, and nobody appreciated it in the least. Actually, thinking back, Elizabeth had to admit that wasn't _quite_ true. Mr. Darcy had managed to uncover it during her stay in Netherfield, and thinking back on it, she could never remember any censure in his voice over her supposed unladylike accomplishments.

Now, after the events of the last four months, Lizzy felt certain she had few if any illusions left. Her father probably liked her just because her interests coincided with his, but mostly by pure random chance. Had Lydia been born a year later, it could very well have been Mary who garnered the attention of the patriarch. Had they had a son, he would certainly have been the one to get all the attention. In either of those stories, Lizzy may or may not have developed a love for reading and knowledge. She liked to think that anything she loved that well had to have some intrinsic value that she would have recognized no matter the time or place, but she was no longer so certain of much of anything. Was Jane any less for her lack of interest in books and learning, or was she just reacting to different circumstances? Did she develop her love of books as a way for one daughter lost among five to garner some parental attention? Perhaps nearly all of life was just a matter of how well one reacted to random chance.

Before Lizzy could indulge her propensity for maudlin thoughts, she refocused on the bookstore just in time to see a gentleman of about her father's age exit the shop and hurry over to greet Mrs. Smyth warmly, as one would a lifelong friend. His greeting was effusive enough to convince Elizabeth this was indeed the case.

"Mrs. Smyth! How good it is to see you my old friend. Come Come! You must come inside for a spot of tea right this instant. I insist!"

He looked around somewhat conspiratorially, as if he were a French spy and whispered, "I have that book you asked me for. I've been saving it for you."

Mrs. Smyth's countenance showed she clearly enjoyed the man's company as much as he enjoyed hers, and that their friendship was one of some duration. She performed the introductions as was appropriate.

"Mr. Wolcott, may I present my companion, and dare I say it, my friend, Elizabeth Bennet." She was clearly of the opinion that 200 miles was a sufficient distance to prevent any gossip from the use of her true surname.

Mr. Wolcott gave Elizabeth a big smile that to her mind clearly showed a friendly and affable nature, and said, "Welcome, Miss Bennet. May I introduce my daughter-in-law, Mrs. Laura Wolcott?"

He turned to show the young woman who had walked up unnoticed in all the bustle. She was a young woman of around Elizabeth's age, with light colored hair that would almost match Jane's, but of course, that would go unnoticed for a few moments because the most obvious thing about her was that she was quite heavily pregnant. There seemed little doubt she was quite close to calling for the midwife. She also noticed the young woman was carrying a very sad countenance.

Mrs. Smyth was obviously well aware of the young woman's condition, showing not the least bit of surprise. Apparently, she had been keeping this little tidbit as a bit of amusement.

Elizabeth noticed a long shadow cross both of the Wolcott's features, overshadowing the joy they had felt at meeting an old friend. Mr. Wolcott said, "I'm afraid, you won't be able to meet my son. He was lost in Badajoz in late March. I'm afraid Laura is to raise her child without benefit of a father."

Mrs. Smyth gasped, clearly not aware of this recent development.

Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Wolcott and felt like she should really just quit feeling sorry for herself altogether. Here was a woman who had lost everything, husband, father and would soon have the job of raising a child on her own but through no fault of her own, and no indiscretions of her family; but rather the vagaries of war and duty.

Mrs. Smyth asked, "I didn't know your son had joined the service."

Mr. Wolcott looked angry, although at whom it was difficult to tell. He said, "He did not. He was pressed into service in the navy. He was absolutely unable to handle the water, and when they landed in Spain, the captain traded him to the army for another man. My boy had no business there, and now he'll never be back."

Mrs. Smyth said sadly, "None of our sons have any business there, but I don't think we have very much choice in the matter."

Mr. said philosophically, "I understand that. The madman has to be stopped. I just wish the sacrifice didn't have to be my son, but I would imagine every father or wife or lost son or daughter feels the same."

Mrs. Smyth said, "Just so", and took the father's arm to go back into the bookstore.

Elizabeth felt in great sympathy for the young widow.

"Mrs. Wolcott, I am so sorry for your loss. If I can be of any service whatsoever, I beg you would ask."

The young woman looked her over, and was apparently satisfied that Elizabeth was sincere and replied, "I thank you Miss. Bennet. I believe you are sincere, and I may be so bold as to do so should you be here when need arises."

Elizabeth replied, "I dearly hope you will, and if you don't mind, I would like you to call me Elizabeth or Lizzy."

"I would be most happy. I'm Laura."

With that, a bond was established and Elizabeth saw just what Mrs. Smyth was planning.

The party sat down for tea and some excellent biscuits. Mrs. Wolcott was obviously nearly worn out, no doubt because of both her condition and worry over her lost husband, and went to rest while the rest of the party carried on the conversation in Mr. Wolcott's lounge, where he could talk and keep an eye on his trade.

Mrs. Smyth got right to the point, and said, "Elizabeth, Phillip, I believe I have a plan that will be of mutual benefit to both of you."

With that, Mrs. Frog took to the floor and explained her plan. Mr. Wolcott had planned for his son to inherit the bookstore, and had been training him in the trade for some time. Mrs. Wolcott was not a scholar, or even much of a reader. She would not be the one that would convince a gentleman of leisure to part with good coin for a valuable book, but Elizabeth was. Lizzy needed a place to stay, and Mr. Wolcott needed someone that could mind the store and convince purchasers to come to the point whenever he went to acquire more merchandise.

Mr. Wolcott had a good trade in rare books, first editions and the like, but acquiring them took considerable time and effort. He could not do that, and watch over his young daughter-in-law and his store at the same time, so his stock was gradually dwindling and would soon be gone entirely. What could be better than a shopkeeper's assistant who was at least as knowledgeable about literature as the gentry who would appear with money burning a hole in their pockets; and who could speak their language without appearing to be taking on airs? Mrs. Smyth was convinced if Elizabeth could give over castigating herself for her sisters' behavior, she could charm the money out of nearly any man, and that would be to the benefit of all. There weren't that many educated gentlewomen who could take on this office, and Mrs. Smyth dared to think Elizabeth could do it better than any man Mr. Wolcott could find.

Of course, it was lost on nobody once all the particulars of the situation were explained in some detail; that if Elizabeth needed a wet nurse, and nothing could be easier than mixing her coming babe with the one that Mrs. Smyth had on the way. The timing would be just about right, and nobody doubted that they could come to good terms. There was ample room for both families in Mr. Wolcott's house, and it all seemed like it worked out quite tidily. Mrs. Smyth wasn't quite so sure that adding Jane and another babe to the mix a month later would be seen on quite such good terms, but she had to start somewhere.

For her part, Elizabeth liked the shopkeeper, liked Laura very much indeed, and loved the shop, and felt that she could be quite content passing her life in this little village and this little bookshop. She could, for once in her life say that she had met the smartest person in the room. It was obvious that Mrs. Frog hatched her plan within minutes of their conversation back in Kent, and was just making sure her charges all acted according to their best interests. The woman was a force of nature. Mrs. Frog was her new hero.

She asked, "And how long will you be staying Mrs. Frog?"

"We shall see Elizabeth… We shall see…"


	18. An Unusual Proposal – May 15 1812

_A/N: I've been promising some comic relief to you my faithful readers for some time, so here it is. I've had this written for a while, but waiting for the timeline to make sense. It's a bit of a departure from the rest of the story, but once I had the idea, I couldn't resist. As always, please let me know what you think. Wade_

* * *

"What can I do for you young man. My study seems to be under invasion these days."

The young man in question looked appraisingly at Mr. Bennet. The father had clearly seen better days, which should make him easy enough to work on. The old man was in a desperate situation, and would no doubt agree to desperate measures.

"Mr. Bennet, I believe I can ease some of the burden your family is suffering under. I am here to ask for the hand of one of your daughters in marriage."

Mr. Bennet looked at the young man incredulously, as if he had lost his mind entirely; which was quite possible given the nature of the application.

"Do you mean one of the increasing daughters, or one of the missing? You will have to be more specific. I have five you know, although I can only precisely place two of them at the moment."

"I was thinking of one of the increasing daughters. I believe I could also engage a suitor for the other with some effort."

"I see. Do you have a particular daughter in mind?"

"It makes little difference. It's difficult to tell one from the other, do you not agree?"

Mr. Bennet eyed the young man appraisingly, wondering at his angle. There was always an angle with men such as this.

"I suppose you have some remuneration in mind for providing this _service_?"

"Of course! A man must have something to live on. Your estate is prosperous, and given reasonably advantageous marriages for your two youngest, your elder daughters may yet attract much better suitors. I believe Miss Elizabeth has caught Mr. Darcy's eye, and with this scandal cleaned up, she may yet catch him. That would no doubt bring Mr. Bingley back for your eldest and all will be well."

Mr. Bennet looked at the young man and seethed. He had to give it to him for audacity, accosting him here in his own library took some real nerve. Other than that, there was very little if anything to recommend him. The man was clearly mad, both for thinking he wanted one of his most worthless daughters, and for thinking somehow this would bring either Mr. Darcy or Bingley back. Wild horses would be unlikely to drag either of those gentlemen back within 20 leagues of Hertfordshire, let alone any Bennet daughter.

On the other hand, if this young rapscallion could take away one of his burdens it might be a relief. After all they had made their own beds, perhaps even with him. At least if he married one of the youngers, he might finally get some peace and quiet.

After a day of books and port, with emphasis on the port, Mr. Bennet may not have been in the very best condition for thinking or negotiations, but he persevered nonetheless to get the unpleasant task over with.

"Are you responsible for either of their conditions?"

Yet another lie would have been the course of wisdom. The young man lied smoothly and believably, with the ease of long practice and no conscience, and one more would have been no more difficult than a duck paddling one more yard. However, this young man also suffered from a surfeit of arrogance and such people are not always wise. He just could not resist a little bit of boasting.

"I'm nearly certain I am with Miss Catherine. With Miss Lydia, let's just say that the parentage is… ambiguous. I'm not even certain I could narrow it down to two candidates."

Mr. Bennet's face fell at the thought of just how far his daughters had failed him.

"And how much do you think this _service_ of yours should be worth?"

"I believe 2,000 pounds should suffice. I could get one of my comrades to take the remaining daughter for a mere 400."

"So you believe I should pay you for trying to repair damage that you yourself caused!"

"The damage was inevitable, Mr. Bennet. If not for me, another of my militiamen would have done the deed, or one of the local shopkeepers' sons. It's been coming for some time. At least, I am willing to be reasonable, and I can relieve some of your burden. I can assure you I will be a diligent and faithful husband."

"You lie with a smooth and easy elegance, young man. I almost believe you."

"You may believe me, Mr. Bennet. In this matter I am true."

"That was even better. How long have you been practicing this type of deceit? You could probably even fool my Elizabeth if you haven't already. Yes, you are a scoundrel of the worst order, but you are uncommonly skilled at it."

The young man could see his bargain slipping away, which did not suit his purpose. He had clearly overplayed his hand, yet again. He obviously wasn't going to be saddled with one of these girls for life, but he could go through the motions for 2,000 pounds. Even 1,000 pounds or 500 might keep him from being beaten to a pulp by his fellow militiamen or the shopkeepers of Meryton. He had accumulated numerous debts of honor among his fellow soldiers, and large debts with the shopkeepers who only need compare notes to ascertain that he would not be able to pay even a fraction of the amounts due.

"Come, come now, Mr. Bennet. You know how limited your choices are. I am offering you a good solution to your problem. Perhaps I was too greedy. Now that I think about it 1,000 pounds might suffice."

"Let me think upon it a moment."

"Think as long as you need Mr. Bennet. I am at your disposal."

As it turned out, the young man did not have a lot of time to ponder such weighty questions. His later ruminations would center on how fortunate he was that Mr. Bennet paid as much heed to his port as he did to his pistol. Thus it was that the bullet meant for his heart went through his side, and he could make his escape while the old man thundered and spat at him while trying to reload the pistol in time for another shot.

As the young man ran out the door, bleeding all over his fine carpet much to the consternation of Mrs. Bennet, all Mr. Bennet could hear was the voices of both of his youngest daughters screaming with all their might in consternation, " **GEORGIE!** "

* * *

Sir William Lucas, acting as the district magistrate sat down with Mr. Bennet at Lucas Lodge. There was no sanity or even thinking possible at Longbourn, and this investigation was his solemn duty.

Dr. William opened with, "Did you actually shoot a young militiaman in your study?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I did."

"With a loaded pistol?"

"Yes, I don't believe it would have been of much use unloaded?"

"And you had ample time to…um… load it?"

"Of course not! What a question. No, it was loaded already."

"And, exactly _why_ did you have a loaded pistol in your desk?"

Mr. Bennet looked a bit confused at the question, and finally answered, "I clean and load it every morning. Why do you ask?"

Sir William was going to have no part of such a question, although with his wife the question was bound to be discussed at great length by everyone in the neighborhood quite soon.

Sir William thought he should quit woolgathering, and asked, "Was this Militiaman the cause of your… er… recent difficulties?"

Mr. Bennet sighed in resignation and answered, "He was the proximate cause, yes, but truth be told, he was not the root cause. I feel that burden rests solely on myself. My girls were much… much… wilder than I imagined in my worst nightmares."

Sir William was surprised to hear this. He was of course not surprised that the girls were wild, as that part was obvious to the most casual observer. No, he was surprised that Mr. Bennet would admit to any culpability. By all accounts, Mr. Bennet had abandoned all possible responsibility for his offspring. Sir William had at first felt some guilt about arranging his daughter's ascendancy over the Bennet girls, but Mr. Bennet's clear abandonment of his daughters had long since removed any sting. Charlotte had done nothing wrong, and the Bennets would probably benefit from her friendship when his friend died. That unhappy event would happen sooner rather than later if Mr. Bennet carried on with his current course, as he looked a decade older than he had at the ball.

"And what did he want?"

"The usual… money in exchange for marrying one of my less worthy daughters."

Sir William had the temerity to ask, "How much money?" even though the indelicacy of the question was obvious.

Thomas Bennet, whose discernment of proper behavior had been dulled by years of idle gossip thought nothing of it, and answered ruefully, "A great deal, although he did mention that other militiamen might be prevailed upon to do the office for less."

Sir William mulled that over for a moment.

"So, you did shoot him?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I did."

"Did he threaten you in any way? Anything that would legally justify shooting him?"

"Wasn't offering to marry one of my youngest enough? The man was clearly mad."

I don't think answer is your best strategy if facing the assize, should it come to that.

"I care not. He was just the last straw. I am finished anyway."

Sir William reacted in alarm, and said, "I care. Your family, reduced as it is, are still vital members of our society. The scandal will die down someday. That young man is the worst sort of scum."

"Do as you will, Sir William."

"Right… Capital"

Sir William, wanting to be certain he did his duty correctly, asked for more details.

"Did the young man have his sword with him?"

"Yes, I suppose so"

"Well, there you have it. A man threatening another man with a sword in his own bookroom, defending yourself was the only possible course. I see no cause for further action. It's not as if you killed him. I believe we are done here."

Happy to have the correct decision from any possible legal, moral or practical angle; Sir William went to offer his old friend some brandy, but thought better of it.

For his part, Mr. Bennet just sighed and said, "If that is your decision, so be it."

* * *

Steven Fletcher was having a very bad week. It was not a bad week like our Bennet sisters' bad week or month; but it was quite bad enough for him.

His personal cliff, to be honest was actually more of a molehill, possibly a child's sandbox.

First, he learned that a debt of honor from Wickham for more than two pounds was very unlikely to be repaid once the scoundrel deserted. It was just a gaming debt so he might philosophically say that he was only getting what he deserved for advancing the debt to such a worthless individual in the first place, but that would require more wisdom than he possessed. So, at the bottom of his personal molehill, he quietly seethed and lamented how put out he was by the loss. Learning that Wickham had left similar debts with nearly all the gamers in the regiment did not improve his mood in the least.

Then things started looking up. In fact, young Steven became practically giddy when he learned that the shiftless cretin was caught and to be returned to the regiment.

Things improved yet again when he learned that Colonel Forster had a desire to look good for his young wife, and perhaps coincidentally for the regimental higher-ups, who didn't think he maintained discipline worthy of his post. Naturally, the easiest way for Colonel Forster to solve both problems was to have Wickham hanged. After all, desertion in time of war was a hanging offense, and they were _most certainly_ at war, and had been for some time on the peninsula. Steven did not in any way want the higher-ups to get the idea that discipline could be restored by sending the entire regiment to Spain. No, that idea did not suit at all.

Things improved even more when he learned that his duties would allow him to witness the hanging at dawn. He looked forward with it, and had even made a few wagers with his comrades about how long it would take him to stop moving, and whether he would have any last words to say.

Yes, things were definitely looking up. Steven Fletcher would get to see George Wickham swing, and all would be well with the world. He looked forward to it with glee, and was even happier to find that Wickham had been wounded in an altercation with some chit's father, and was currently laying in the makeshift brig screaming in agony since the wounds were festering, and he had been for weeks. That was why he had been so easy to catch.

Now, Steven Fletcher was well and truly happy. He even started wagering on how long Wickham would swing, how many times he would scream, if he would call for his mother, if he would try to smooth talk his way out of his punishment. Wagers were flying fast and heavy in the regiment.

In dawn's light, Steven Fletcher once again tumbled from his molehill. The only one in the entire regiment to win a wager on Wickham was Private Hooper. Wickham was being carried to the gallows, screaming in agony, and bets were flying every which direction as this was turning out to be the most diversion the regiment had enjoyed in months, when one of the men carrying him slipped on the top steps of the gallows, lost his grip on the hapless prisoner, and heard him bump his way all the way down to the bottom of the stairs, to land with a most unsatisfying broken neck. Private Hooper had won a good deal, wagering that Wickham would not swing at all.


	19. Working Class – Dec 14 1811

_A/N: I have to admit, I'm having a lot it more fun with Mary than I originally anticipated. I apologize the timeline of the story is a little confusing, as I decided to expand Mary's story quite a ways into it. You'll notice that I've gone back and put dates on the chapters, but you may still have a hard time keeping track. As a cheat-sheet, this is all about a fortnight after the Netherfield Ball, so Mary's real story is quite a way behind all the other characters. Lizzy, Darcy and Jane are all five months ahead in May. In Mary's timeline, nobody knows about Lydia yet, so the Bennets have yet to have the_ _epic worst Xmas ever_ _._

 _I believe I'll get Mary a little closer to the timeline before carrying on with the others because (spoiler), she may or may not actually meet some of the other characters. So no, I haven't shipped her off to Canada (yet)._

 _I've actually made a timeline for myself to keep track of the whole thing, so if you'd like it (spoilers and all), ask and I'll put it in the forum. Here's Mary's next morning after the coach ride. Wade_

* * *

"Pardon me, Miss. It's time to wake up."

Mary slowly opened her eyes, only to see the face of a young girl or perhaps woman of about her age looking down at her. Mary felt surprisingly well considering how difficult her previous fortnight had been. After a fortnight on the floor at the Braxtons, followed by a night on the ground and a day on the mail coach, just sleeping in a bed… any bed, was a luxury. She had slept well, and was feeling quite up to scratch.

Mary stretched a bit, while surreptitiously checking that her money pouch was still secure, and sat up while murmuring, "Good morning".

The woman looked at her just a bit with a mixture of shyness and slyness, and replied, "Welcome to our home. You seemed too tired for introductions last night, so I hope you have rested well. Will you be staying here with us?"

"I rested quite well, thank you, and yes, I have no plans to leave anytime soon."

Mary guessed the girl's her age to be around seventeen or eighteen. The young girl was wearing a simple workingwoman's dress very similar to Mary's, and she could see a similar apron folded neatly on a bed the assumed must belong to her. Mary couldn't decide whether to think of her as a girl or a woman, and in fact, she didn't really even how to think of herself. Since they were all here, clearly on their own, taking care of themselves, she decided that from now on they would be women, regardless of age. She felt quite certain there was nobody in the room that was even as old as Lizzy.

The young girl was jumping up and down on the balls of her feet, seemingly full of energy and just itching to perform introductions, which she began immediately as soon as Mary go up from the bed.

"I'm Martha Skelton." she said with a brief curtsey.

Mary was still in her dress she had fallen asleep in the night before, a habit she had no intention of repeating. She gave a brief matching curtsey, but before she could get her name out Martha continued. The young woman was apparently just too excited to do things properly; or maybe this was proper in this new life Mary had chosen for herself. She started to think she must not carry too many of her thoughts and mannerisms from her pervious life over to this one, and as she drew in a breath to introduce herself, Martha continued.

"This is Margaret Brown", she said indicating another young woman of about the same age. Margaret stood silently by and replied with only a small curtsey and a nod of her head in acknowledgement. Margaret was apparently content to let Martha complete the introductions. Margaret was taller than Martha, a bit stouter and with lighter colored hair. Where Martha's hair was more the color of Lizzy's, Margaret's was between that of Jane and Lizzy. Perhaps she was shy or perhaps she just didn't want to compete with Martha for speaking space, or perhaps she had her own reasons for keeping her own council. As one who was most often silent and ignored, Mary could understand that.

Martha continued with another girl standing on the other side of the room, "And this is Molly Darnall".

Molly was again about the same age as the rest of the girls. She was also the shortest and smallest of the lot. She reminded Mary a bit of Kitty, except she could see a look in her eyes that made Mary think that Molly was happy to let Martha talk, so long as Martha performed the office correctly, but she would step in should she see the need arise. Mary also surmised that Molly would not spend all day every day complaining, so she would almost certainly be a better companion than Kitty or Lydia.

Martha pointed to the one girl still lying in her bed, still asleep. Mary had spared the girl only a passing glance in the morning, and now looked at her more carefully. The girl was obviously quite sickly, and looked like she had been abed for some time already. In fact, truth be told the young woman looked deathly ill.

Molly became more pensive, and introduced the sick woman, "And our little invalid is Madeline Osborne. She's been abed for a fortnight now, and does not seem to be improving. We have had both the apothecary and the physician in for different treatments, but she does not improve."

Mary had no idea how to treat an invalid, but assumed the other girls knew what they were about so made no comment. Who was she to discuss the efforts of the medical men.

Mary, making an effort to cement the names in her mind by repeating back, "So, we have Martha, Molly, Margaret and Madeline?"

"Yes"

Mary couldn't help letting a little giggle escape her lips, as the tension drained a little bit and she enjoyed the first true bit of levity in quite some time. The other girls looked at her in some consternation, but took her outburst in stride and started giggling along with her. The laughter of the girls started escalating, each one giggling a little bit louder and egging on the other until all of the young ladies except poor Madeline were practically in tears, apparently over the simple alliteration of their names. Mary didn't even know if they could read, but the similarity of the names must have been remarked on many times.

As the laughter died down, Mary decided she should tell the others what was so amusing, so performed her own introduction.

 _"Martha, Molly, Margaret and Madeline_ … It's nice to meet you. I'm Mary Bennet."

With that, the girls started howling in laughter all over again, and it continued for some time. Finally though, it came to an end and Martha got down to business.

"Miss Bennet, are you perchance seeking employment?"

Mary reflected that she was in fact seeking employment. She had been thinking of nothing else since the disaster of the ball, and the types of employment she was likely to get were not auspicious. The only types of employment that would allow her to keep her status as a gentlewoman were as a governess, tutor, or a companion. Any of those would require references, and either would take some time to arrange. At the moment, she seemed to have placed herself in a position where she was unlikely to be able to procure any of those positions any time soon, if ever.

Barring one of the accepted professions of a young lady, she imagined she must be willing to take on one of the unacceptable ones. That would permanently remove her from the class she was born to. It seemed she had to make a choice, and she had to make it _now_. Would she strive to elevate herself back to the gentry, or simply accept that her life would never be the same and strive to make her way in reduced circumstances?

Should she decide to make her way in the lower classes, she didn't really have the skills for any of the more elevated of the working class trades. She didn't think she had the knowledge to be a lady's maid, nor could she think of a way she would procure such a position in the first place. Being one of the lower servants would be equally difficult, as the work was quite arduous, and she had even less idea of how it was done. So, it seemed that it was at least hearing the young woman out.

She had to admit that she didn't actually know how working class women talked among themselves. Did they follow the rules of propriety that she had been mercilessly drilled in; or did they have their own way of speaking? Was their address formal or informal or some style she did not know at all? She thought that putting on the airs of a lady in front of these women who were to be her companions would be a poor start, so she decided to start her education.

"I very well may be. Might I ask what type of employment you are thinking of? Also, if it's not too improper to ask; I'm from some distance north, and I'm not sure of your ways of addressing each other, so what would you suggest?"

Molly thought she sounded quite odd with such a question, but answered anyway, "I'd be pleased if you called me by my given name."

She looked around at the other girls and received general agreement, so Mary replied, "I would be as well pleased for the same courtesy."

The young women laughed at this funny way of speaking. They could see that this wasn't a woman born to this kind of work, but who were they to argue when they were actually somewhat desperate.

"Might you have skill as a laundress?"

Mary thought back to her fortnight with the Braxtons. It was true that she had survived all of the rigors of their monthly laundry, which was hard back-breaking work that stretched out over the entire first week. She had managed to carry the wood and the water, stir the laundry, beat out the stains, dry, iron and fold; and calculated that there probably wasn't that much more to it, except more of the same. Perhaps if she was working for someone higher class she might have to have more care for the clothing, or maybe there were additional skills she knew nothing about, but she could only ask.

"I do not have extensive training or skill, but I believe I am up to the task. What do you have in mind?"

Margaret stepped forward to join Molly in her explanations, "We work together as laundresses but Madeline has been ill and unable to leave her bed this last fortnight. We are sharing the burden of caring for her, but we really need four to be able to complete our tasks.

"And would you have me as your fourty, even though I've no extensive experience?"

The other women looked at her oddly, as most of her ways of speaking did not sound quite right. She used big words when small words would do, and seemed to use too many of them as well. However, they were all perfectly happy to chalk that up as just the oddities of northern speech. Who knew what they got up to in the northern kingdoms? When Mary said she was from the north, they assumed somewhere exotic, a great deal to the north. Mary would ever know if they would consider Hertfordshire far away and exotic, since she had no intention of ever mentioning her actual home.

"Yes, if you're willing. It pays well. We can make 10 shillings to the week between the estates and the villagers who can afford to have us do the work. We are to go to the grand estate a mile outside the village on Monday, and the mistress is very particular. She would not abide the three of us trying to do the laundry alone. She wants exactly four women for her laundry service, not three and not five. Your arrival is a stroke of luck."

Mary wondered what exactly they would be washing, but it was of no matter and she made her decision.

"I would be happy to join you in your endeavors until Madeline recovers."

Mary felt good about the decision. She could see that Madeline was in dire need of assistance, and the three women were trying their best to help her instead of abandoning her to her fate. Mary couldn't imagine what that fate might be, but she would wager it was not pleasant, and the sick woman probably wouldn't even survive it. She was also still shaken up by her encounter with the village ruffians back on… she was shocked to think it was only the night before last. How quickly her life was changing.

She reflected that if she was to land in the world of employment, she had been fortunate. This position might pay as much as 25 pounds per annum. It was less than half what her pin money had been, and she would have to work and sweat all day every day for it, but she would be among a group of women at all times, and there were not a lot of positions on offer to a woman in her position. She most especially did not want to put herself in a position of being alone after the events in Wellom.

Mary reflected a few minutes that she could no doubt help these women for a few days or perhaps weeks, and then she might see what her life could offer that was better. For the moment, she had four walls and a roof, and three other women who needed her. Nobody had ever needed her before. Back at home she was by turns ignored, tolerated or derided; but she was never _needed_. It was clear that young Madeline _needed_ her help, and Mary was content with that for the moment.

Mary went with the other young ladies to acquire some breakfast, all chatting amiably along the way. They would need to bring back some broth to take turns feeding to Madeline, then they would all clean up quickly to walk out for church. There were surprisingly two churches close to this village, but one was reputed to have a particularly onerous rector, and the other had a few handsome young men that the others were interested in; so the choice of which church to attend was quite clear. Mary would follow the other women like a duckling, so her day was all sorted as well.

It was with a sense of finality on that morning of December 14, 1811 that Mary accepted the fact that her life would now have some different path. Whether for good or ill, she had made her choice, and would live with the consequences.


	20. Leap Day– Feb 29 1812

_A/N: This chapter has been cooking in my head for about a week, and in the end it just about wrote itself. You're going to start seeing some threads pulled together between all our girls. Got a little introspection, a little angst, some adventure, and some consolidation all in one fairly longish chapter. This one is also a bit more lighthearted than what preceded it. Give it a shot. Wade_

* * *

February 29 – Leap Day. For those knowledgeable about such things, it was a day of mystery, but not deep mystery. It was rare enough that any given person might experience only a dozen in a lifetime, but common enough not to demand a big fuss. It had no celebrations, no famous practitioners, nothing really to recommend it over any other day; except that it was the day that kept the seasons in check, from gradually changing until winter was summer, autumn was spring, and life was run amok.

Just as the cycles of the earth required an extra day in their calendar every four years to keep the seasons from spinning out of their courses, the inhabitants of our story spent some time that in reflection, trying to see if their lives were yet to spin out of control as well. Would their seasons play out as the seasons of a life ought to? Would the leap day right the slip in fortunes that had come about in December, or would they continue to gradually slide into the abyss? Would their own personal cliffs be the making or the breaking of them, for it seemed it must be one or the other.

* * *

For Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was very difficult to say where his life was going. On this leap day, he met with Mr. Bennet in Longbourn, and saw a man who let his choices spin him off the edge and his family with him. The elder man's daily decisions about how to deal with his duty to his family had brought them to the edge of ruin, and he seemed content to allow fate to drag them the rest of the way down with it.

Darcy would happily have joined everyone in Meryton, or possibly everyone in Hertfordshire in condemning the man, but when he thought about his sister and what very nearly happened in Ramsgate, he thought he should keep his censure in check. If not for the grace of pure good fortune, he could see himself sitting in the same position as Mr. Bennet, with the same hangdog look on his face, wondering where he had gone wrong. Yes, the difference between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet when it came right down to protecting his family was razor thin… much too thin for his liking.

Darcy did not know that Mr. Bennet kept a pistol in his desk, or that he cleaned and reloaded it every morning. Had he known, Darcy would have known exactly why Mr. Bennet did so, though it would later completely escape Sir William who was wholly incapable of such thoughts. He would never have guessed to what purpose that pistol would _actually_ be used, but he would have known its intended purpose as well as he knew his own horse.

He left Mr. Bennet's study that Saturday afternoon, never expecting to see the aging father again, yet absolutely certain in his bones that he would see Elizabeth, no matter how long it took or how much effort or expense. Elizabeth Bennet might be the bane of his existence or she might be his salvation! It mattered not! He would not rest until he talked to her. Should he learn of her whereabouts, he could not be responsible for his actions, as he would do nearly anything to restore some equanimity to his soul, and nothing short of ten minute's conversation with the object of his obsession would do so.

As he entered his townhouse after his sixth hour atop his horse that day, he noticed someone in his study and asked, "Fitzwilliam, what are you doing here?"

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam replied casually, "That's a fine greeting for your most cherished relative, Darcy!"

Darcy looked at his cousin askance, and replied, "Georgiana, I'm not sure I approve of your new dress."

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed uproariously, while Darcy tried to laugh along, if just to prove that he could. The day with Mr. Bennet had left him feeling drained. Frankly, he just didn't have the patience to deal with his effervescent cousin today. His cousin was like a brother to him, but like any brother, sometimes he just couldn't abide him, and wished to be left to himself.

"You haven't answered my question."

Fitzwilliam, seeing that his cousin was in one of his black moods, which seemed to be coming more frequently since Ramsgate decided to get it over with.

"Father wants me to go to Rosings with you this year."

"That's no surprise. His choices are to send you or go himself. Did you ever doubt the outcome?"

"No, but a man can hope. I faced off against Napoleon in Spain this year, so thought I might take a run at father. Turns out, one is more amenable to persuasion than the other."

Darcy laughed for real this time and replied, "Yes, I can see that the little general is being very reasonable."

"So Darcy, when do we go face the dragon?"

"March 23. You may as well stay here the night before."

"How about the fortnight before?"

"Don't push your luck, Fitzwilliam."

With that, the two cousins parted after finalizing the remaining particulars about their visit to Rosings. For his part, Darcy was anxious enough for distraction from all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet that he even looked forward to a fortnight in his aunt's company. Surely, there was nowhere in England he was less likely to encounter her than at Rosings.

* * *

Elizabeth Gardiner on the other hand, was just barely holding onto her sanity; and that only because of the calming presence of Mrs. Smyth. Mrs. Smyth had welcomed her as her companion with a wit and intelligence that Elizabeth hoped to emulate in her own dotage, should she be fortunate enough to survive that long. Two long months of disappointments and self-recriminations had left her a shell of her former self, but Mrs. Smyth seemed to take her wild appearance and disheveled attitude in stride with hardly a glance. In fact, it seemed as if she took her as some sort of personal challenge.

It had yet to become apparent to Elizabeth, but Mrs. Smyth was both highly intelligent and bored to death. She traveled between her son's estates, staying at each for a few months. That was just long enough for her to not become too much of a burden on her sons, and she must admit, just barely long enough to keep from strangling any of her daughter‑in‑laws or grandchildren. She loved them all dearly, but could only stand so much inane chatter at a time.

So it was, that when she had an application in December for a companion to take the place of her customary one for a few months, she jumped at the chance without asking permission, checking references or any of the other usual prerequisites. Here was a young woman, likely to be so much more interesting than the widows her sons usually tried to drop on her, so she presented it to her son as a fait accompli. Her sons were quite willing to pay a reasonably generous amount for companions, mostly out of self-interest as they knew that their wives would extract a price for any unhappiness Mrs. Smyth experienced. So, unusual as the arrangement was, it suited all of the principles perfectly.

Now, a fortnight into her employment, Mrs. Smyth was starting to make some progress. She still had no idea what ailed the young woman, or the depth of her disappointments, but she had time and patience on her side.

"Miss Gardiner, you must take some exercise today. You are looking very pale, and I will be visiting Mrs. Witherspoon and have no need of your companionship."

"You do not wish me to attend you?"

"No, I shall be quite content with my other company. Mrs. Witherspoon and I go back many years, and we have a fine understanding. I shall be quite content, but I will brook no arguments. You will get out of this house while I am gone. I will be checking with the housekeeper on my return, and shall be most vexed if you are about the place when I come back."

Elizabeth laughed at Mrs. Smyth's attempts to be a disciplinarian. As far as she could tell, with the possible exception of her Aunt Gardiner, there wasn't a kinder woman in all of England, but she readily went along with the ruse.

"Will one mile be sufficient Mrs. Tyrant, or need I do more?"

"One is too little, and ten is too much. I've seen you looking wistfully at my son's library. You are a lover of books, are you not Miss Gardiner?"

Elizabeth had thought herself to be more subtle than that, but admitted that it was unlikely she would ever slip anything past Mrs. Smyth. "Yes ma'am, I am."

"And are you a great reader, Miss Gardiner?"

Elizabeth thought back to the night at Netherfield when Caroline Bingley made the assertion, and once again demurred.

"I am not a great reader Mrs. Smyth, but I do believe I can hold my own."

Mrs. Smyth saw just the hint of who the young woman might actually be under the cloud of sorrow, and sought to draw out just a little bit of that spirit.

"Hold your own against whom, Miss Gardiner?"

Elizabeth saw that she was dealing with someone on an entirely different sort than Miss Bingley, and answered honestly, "Against nearly anybody, Mrs. Smyth!"

Happy with the exchange… for the moment, Mrs. Smyth said, "Just so, Miss Gardiner. I will expect to see that spirit again."

Elizabeth understood that she had passed some small test with the dowager.

"Might I borrow a book to take with me?"

"Of course! My son would consider it a privilege."

Elizabeth found just a touch more of her former good humor asked, "Would he consider it such before or after you boxed his ears?"

Mrs. Smyth laughed in her turn and replied, "Does it matter?"

Elizabeth laughed at that, and her equanimity was restored for the time being.

With a plan in place, the two ladies set about their planned pursuits. Elizabeth had been considered quite a famous walker back in Meryton, but here in Kent she was back to being a novice. She didn't know where anything was, other than a vague idea that she must be nearly in the back yard of Rosings, home of the famous condescension of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She could still hear the puffed up ego of her cousin as he enumerated the numerous attributes of Rosings, while seeing him scurrying like a rat from a sinking ship at the slightest whiff of scandal at the Netherfield Ball.

Encountering Rosings was definitely not to her taste, but based on her cousin's descriptions she thought she could hardly stumble on it accidentally. All she had to do was count the windows and chimneys on any dwelling she saw, and if the number seemed excessive, she would scurry back to safety.

With such a plan in mind, Elizabeth wandered a mile or two until she found herself near a lovely pond with a rock just right for reading. The distance was just enough of a walk to give her a good bit of exercise on the way to the pond and again on the way back. The pond also offered an overhang where she could wait out any rain that might occur. With such a perfect spot, and not a chimney or window in sight, Elizabeth felt safe and comfortable for the first time in months, and established what she considered 'her spot' as a favorite that she would revisit every Saturday when Mrs. Smyth bustled her out of doors for her customary exercise. She was idly curious about how close she was to Rosings, but nowhere near curious enough to ask; nor did she want any hint of an association with that place or her odious cousin to be heard.

After all, it wasn't as if she was likely to encounter Lady Catherine, her cousin or Mr. Darcy in a random pond just outside the borders of Rosings. For the moment, she was quite content with her own little pond.

* * *

Mary Bennet was only vaguely aware of leap day, mostly because Lizzy had harped on about it endlessly four years ago during the previous leap day. Sixteen year old Lizzy had been nearly as silly about her books and her almanacs as Lydia later became about officers. She forced all her sisters to have a leap day celebration, complete with sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. There had been practically no moon at all, and the young girls had lain on their backs and stared up at the stars, wondering what life had in store for them. Mary wagered that not one of them had come within 1000 leagues of the truth.

Mary, much to her surprise had a feeling of complete contentment on this fine Saturday. Her planned two days of work as a laundress had first turned into two se'nnights, then two fortnights, then two months. The first days had been every bit as hard as those first days at the Braxton's, but those days were behind her. Now she felt strong as an ox, and thought nothing of carrying wood and water, stirring clothing, beating stains out with her new wooden bat, ironing or any of the other arduous tasks of her trade. She knew they were hard and would eventually bend her back and kill her early, but for the moment, she didn't care.

Mary Bennet reflected on her time her in this village with some satisfaction. In 11 weeks, she had _earned_ over 5 pounds. To the best of her knowledge, no Bennet daughter had ever _earned_ so much as a farthing. In fact, all of her hard‑saved savings that were still strapped to her leg everywhere she went came from her mother's portion, so she was just reaping the efforts of some long-dead ancestor.

Now, Mary Bennet had a profession; something she was good at. She had never been good at anything before. She now knew how long to soak a garment to loosen up any stains. Every quarter hour of extra soaking was just that much more water and wood to haul, but pulling the clothes out early meant starting over when the stains wouldn't come out. She knew how to sort the clothes, and with a practiced eye separate out those that would need more attention than others. She knew whether to use chalk, brick dust, pipe clay, urine or soap on any particular stain, and just how much to use. She knew exactly how much lye to use and how long to let the smallclothes soak. Yes, Mary Bennet thought with some satisfaction that her native intelligence was being put to good use. The other women started out as the masters, but had eventually come to be the students as Mary applied some of her native intelligence to the problems at hand. She had to admit, that there was nothing like a mistake requiring you to carry another ten gallons of water or stir another hot tub of laundry for an hour to sharpen up one's intellect.

Mary's reflections on this day turned a bit towards pride, and she thought that whatever Fordyce had to say about pride was probably wrong, as the man had clearly never cleaned a single piece of clothing in his life. He just sat around writing his sermons while women like Mary kept him fed and clothed. Mary was well quit of the man. She thought back to her previous life. She had always been by turns ignored, censured or ridiculed. Now, she was looked up to and respected. She was obviously not looked up to by her former class, but she was by her new associates. What right did she have to repine?

Her only source of dissatisfaction came with poor Madeline, whose condition was not improved from the day Mary appeared in December. They all pooled their money to bring in the most learned doctors and apothecaries they could afford, but nothing they did seemed to work. Frankly, the most learned of the men seemed to be mostly guessing. They had tried numerous concoctions and poultices. One recommended she eat nothing but gruel while the next insisted on meat. One would bleed her, another would insist on leeches, and the next would say the first two were insane. Some would feed her, and the next would starve her. The girls just kept on feeding her, helping her up to stumble around the room once in a while, kept her clean and warm, and hoped for the best.

Mary remembered how everyone had been all full of amazement when Lizzy walked three miles to tend her sick sister. That seemed like madness to Mary at the time. Now she reflected that she walked more than three miles every day, worked over a hot tub for hours at a time in the middle of it, and then spent her hard-earned money to help a friend whom she barely knew. She didn't feel any animosity towards her sister. In fact, she still greatly admired Lizzy, but she just couldn't see the world the same as she had before. It seemed she could not go back.

Of one thing, Mary Bennet was certain. Right here, right now, her friend who barely even knew who she was needed her. Her friends, who were now much closer than her sisters had ever been, respected and needed her. Mary Bennet had never been _respected_ or _needed_ before, and she quite liked it.

* * *

The three laundresses were walking back from the river on this Saturday, crossing through some woods that seemed overly manicured for Mary's taste, when they were suddenly accosted by four very rough looking men. These men looked much worse than the drunken louts who had chased Mary back in Wellom. They were neither drunk, nor of a type that would look mostly harmless when sober. In fact, they looked quite hard-bitten.

Mary froze in her tracks, remembering the fright she had felt that night and wondered if she had managed to save her virtue only temporarily. One of the men even had a menacing looking knife, while another had the ugliest scar she had ever seen on his face. There were four of them to the three women, and poor Molly just screamed and prepared to run away.

Mary froze for only a moment though. These were not the men from Wellom, but they were cast from the same die, and it was certain they wanted the same thing. The only problem with that plan, was that Mary was also not the woman who had cowered in fear in Wellom. She had come too far, worked too long, spent too many hours gaining her place in the world to surrender it willingly.

Fortunately, a solution was readily at hand. They were laundresses after all. They spent all day, every day either wringing the water out of laundry; a task that required the strength of an ox, handling hot irons; carrying wood and water; or stirring the same laundry in a tub with a light but strong wooden bat. Said wooden bat was currently sitting in a basket she was carrying with Margaret. Mary simply waited until the men advanced on the three helpless, cowering, helpless females. Once they were within reach, Mary dropped her basket, took the bat off the top, and with all her might swung it and hit the first of the men in the side of the head. She watched him drop like a stone with a grunt of satisfaction, just as another made a lunge for her. Unfortunately for Mary, her bat was now in a most awkward position clear down near the ground, and as she brought it up for a similar blow to the second man, she clumsily brought it up with all her strength right between his legs. This one also dropped like a stone as well, but instead of lying unconscious like a dead man, he lay on the ground screaming his lungs out like a little girl. The last two men took one look at Mary, and took off running as if on fire.

Mary surveyed the damage, and tried to decide if the magistrate should be called. She doubted that the word of a laundresses was worth much in this man's world, so she decided to leave well enough alone.

"Come along Margaret. Molly, you can come back. Martha, please stop crying. Our work here is done."

Molly looked at her with a look of awe, and said, "You're just like a Little Lion."

On the way to church the next morning, Mary noticed many of the villagers eyeing her with a look that she couldn't interpret. Did they know about the events of the previous day? Did they now look down on her because of what happened? Was her virtue now suspect? Need a laundress be concerned about reputation? Couldn't her sisters keep their own council? Of course, that last question answered itself. None of her new sisters could pass up a good story, and this one may be the best one they would ever have to tell.

Mary was surprised when Mr. Livingston, the local magistrate, tipped his hat and said, "Good morning, Miss Lion."

This greeting was met with howls of laughter from the other women, which was repeated when the baker, Mr. Huntington tipped his hat and said, "Good Morning, Miss Little."

From that day forward, Mary Bennet was practically forgotten. To the entire village, she was the Little Lion, and everyone called her either _Miss Lion_ or _Miss Little_. A few months later she would be hard-pressed to remember her own name.


	21. A Piece of her Mind – April 30 1812

_A/N: Once again, I apologize for the slightly confusing timeline. This is the day before Darcy asked Charlotte for help in Kent, and all the stories will be in sync in another chapter. Wade_

* * *

"Brother, I will not be coming out into society!"

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked at his sister with alarm. Georgiana was not prone to grand pronouncements, or any pronouncements at all for that matter, so this was quite a singular statement.

"I beg your pardon!"

"You heard me. I will not be coming out into society."

Darcy had understood her words, but was just taken aback by the abruptness of them. If Georgiana was going to say something, he thought she might work her way up to it, rather than just blurting it out. Of course, it was possible she had been working her way up to it for weeks and that was the best she could do. Darcy reflected that he had paid so little attention to his sister lately, that it could be the case and he wouldn't know.

"Of course, you will not be coming out this year. We've already discussed this. You're only sixteen, and there is no need for you to come out before you're seventeen or even eighteen."

Georgiana stared at her brother with a surprisingly intense gaze unlike any he had seen before. She kept it on him until he was squirming in his seat, and she was certain she had his full and undivided attention. Once she was sure of her audience, she continues.

"Fitzwilliam, I do not mean I won't come out until some particular age. I mean under the present circumstances, I won't come out at all… at any age."

Now Darcy just looked at her in confusion. That was to her liking. She wanted to be sure she was getting through to him, and nothing short of a shock would do the trick. She waited patiently for the obvious question. There was no point in making things too easy on him.

"What do you mean, _under the present circumstances_? To which circumstances are you referring?"

Now Georgiana felt like she was getting somewhere.

"I mean the present circumstances of a brother who is ten years my senior who is unmarried. I will come out into society when your wife is here to guide me, and not before then. I will not take the responsibility of producing an heir to Pemberley on my shoulders, nor will I come out into society guided by a maiden aunt or Caroline Bingley."

Darcy looked on for a moment more, completely unnerved by his younger sister.

"To what wife are you referring?"

"Oh, that's your choice. I would never interfere in such a thing", she said nonchalatntly.

Darcy just looked at her in confusion.

She did add one more thought, "If I were to make a suggestion though?"

Darcy, completely at odds now, and more or less at her mercy, let out a sort of strangled, "suggestion?"

Georgiana said, "Yes! I may be wrong, but my present thinking is you should probably marry whoever has had you mooning around like a moonstruck calf these last five months. For a time I thought it was Ramsgate that was affecting you, but I can see that I was wrong. You must be in love."

"What makes you say so?"

"Nothing else could possibly make you act so irrationally."

"What do you mean?"

Georgiana sighed. Apparently, this might be more difficult than she anticipated.

"A few things really. There is the obvious fact that you've been wandering around for months with a dark cloud over your head, snapping at all and sundry you encounter. Then there is the extremely peculiar timing of your departure from Hertfordshire. And of course, we must not forget your extremely peculiar behavior after your return from Kent."

Darcy really couldn't make any sense out of that last part and asked, "Peculiar after Kent. In what way?"

"Brother, do you know what you've said about your visit with my aunt?"

"Not offhand"

"Exactly nothing! Nothing at all! Not a complaint. Not a single anecdote about her atrocious behavior. Not a word about your cousin. Nothing. It's as if the visit never happened. How else is it possible for you to be completely impervious to Lady Catherine de Bourgh? How else could you not have at least one anecdote about his ridiculous parson? What else could explain such singular behavior?"

Darcy at that point knew the game was up, he was caught, by the most unexpected person of all. A moments reflection though showed that he must be incredibly stupid if he thought his sister wouldn't catch on.

Georgiana softened her tone and asked, "Fitzwilliam, won't you tell me about it… please. Share the burden. I've shared enough of mine with you."

And so it was, that Fitzwilliam Darcy shared the entire story, from beginning to end, good and bad, for the first time. For once in his life, he shared the burden of his tumble down the cliff with one person who of all people should be able to understand. _Nobody_ else had the entire story. Not Bingley. Not any of the Bennets, including Elizabeth. Certainly not the Colonel… he could only imagine his reaction. Of his older relatives, no clue had ever been given, nor would there ever be. He would either present Elizabeth Bennet as a fait accompli, or they would never hear of her.

With a start, Darcy stopped mid-sentence. In that very moment he knew what he had in mind for Elizabeth Bennet, and he also knew he would accept no substitute. Should he never find her, or never convince her to give him another chance, he would almost certainly never love again. Georgiana might eventually be prevailed upon to give an heir to Pemberley through an entail, or he would eventually make a marriage of convenience to accomplish the office; but he knew for certain that his heart had been lost forever. There was some comfort in finally acknowledging that, at least to himself.

After a moment, he decided Georgiana also deserved the same consideration.

"Georgiana, I now realize that I am completely and utterly in love with Elizabeth Bennet, but have no idea what to do about it."

Georgiana looked at his look of defeat. His story of his happenstance meeting in Kent weighted heavily on her mind.

"Fitzwilliam, give me a moment to think please."

Fitzwilliam was willing to give her all the time she wanted. With his life as empty as it was, he had nothing but time to fill. He had tried to fill his hours with improving the prosperity of his estate, and had been quite successful over the last five months, to the point where he did not really know what else to do short of allowing it to collapse just so he could start over.

After a few moments, Georgiana looked over him and asked the crucial question.

"Fitzwilliam, what have you done to earn Miss Bennet's regard?"

"I've been searching for her for months. I finally found her, and she won't even talk to me."

Georgiana looked at him as a nanny might look at a particularly thick student, and expanded.

"But what have you done. You are the Master of Pemberley, yet you run away at the slightest setback. You and Bingley both ran away from Hertfordshire, for no reason other than a setdown you entirely deserved. Bingley left a woman whos attentions he had engaged without a single word, and without even taking his leave. A woman refuses to talk to you so you leave the county with your tail between your legs. You say her sisters have disgraced the family and her father is letting his estate slide into ruin. You say two of the sisters have been ruined by some blackguard, but whoever he is; he's still at liberty to ruin another girl, and another, and another. What have you done about it Fitzwilliam?"

The last was said at a near shout, as Georgiana warmed up to her subject.

Darcy looked at her in silence, and finally admitted, "Nothing"

Georgiana looked at him, and finished with the obvious answer, "Well, hadn't you better get started?"

Now Darcy saw the wisdom in his words, and wished he had sought her council sooner rather than wallowing in his own pit of despair.

"Georgiana, you have become quite a clever and accomplished woman."

Georgiana saw his gambit, and just to be clear said, "I'm still not coming out into society."

Darcy laughed and said, "Oh yes you are. You laid down the gauntlet, and I intend to take it up."

Georgiana laughed, and said, "Now you sound more like the Master of Pemberley than an errant schoolboy."

Fitzwilliam then said, "What do you suggest."

Georgiana said, "Now you need to do what needs to be done. Go to Kent and try to talk to Miss Bennet. Whether she talks to you or not, go do something to earn her regard. Imagine how you'll feel if you find her a year or two hence, only to find she despises you for your sloth. Go do something for her family. Find the blackguard and do something about him."

Darcy didn't have the heart to tell his sister who he suspected the blackguard was, nor to admit even to himself that he could have prevented at least part of this debacle. That news would wait for its completion, but he was finally going to deal with George Wickham once and for all. He reflected with shame that it only took a vowel of 20 pounds to send the man to debtor's prison, and he had carried that much and more for years. It was time for George Wickham to pay for his sins, and Fitzwilliam Darcy was finally going to collect.

Darcy jumped up, and uncharacteristically gave his sister a kiss on the forehead. Then he said, "Good night Georgiana, I'm off to Kent at dawn", all the while shouting for his valet to have everything prepared.

"Georgiana"

"Yes, brother"

"Thank you"


	22. Lions and Tigers – April 3 1812

_A/N: Hey gang, you get a twofer today – One Mary and one Lizzy chapter, so if you're getting Mary Fatigue, just stick with me._

 _I've finally pulled the admittedly confusing timeline almost in sync. Mary is now up to April in this chapter, or about the time of the Hunsford proposal in canon, and the time of Darcy/Colonel visit to Kent in this story. She'll skip ahead to May with everyone else after this chapter, and things are going to start coming together. Thank you again to everyone who reviews or PMs. I enjoy every one. Wade_

* * *

Mary and her friends went every fortnight for several days to the great estate outside the village to do laundry for the servants. They did not clean for the gentry, as that was done by their own servants, much to Mary's relief. She did not have the slightest desire to be responsible for expensive silks and overly particular customers. She thought that the servants looked quite fine indeed after their exertions, and they as a rule were easier to get along with and more respectful of the time and work the women did. All in all, she was quite happy with that work as it was a big part of the group's income.

During their laundry visit, the housekeeper asked if one of the girls could act as a parlor maid for the evening. She had three maids sick, was in desperate straits and would pay double wages. Molly had some experience at another estate but never cared for all the bowing and scraping involved; but with all the money going to doctors and apothecaries for Madeline's care, she thought they could use all the help they could get. The work was easy as could be, compared to laundry, so other than having to wear livery that was entirely too fancy for her liking, she wouldn't mind the work. She would be below the notice of the patroness of the great estate, who apparently liked to control everything in the world to the tiniest detail, but she certainly would be unaware of a parlor maid.

Molly was lighting lamps along the upstairs hallway when the mistress of the estate came storming out of one of the bedrooms, shouting up a storm fit for a sailor, with fire in her eyes.

"What is this! What is this filth! I will not have this in my house! I will not have you destroy our dignity with such… with such… with such…" Apparently, whatever she had was so bad as to remove the power of speech.

Molly did not in the least wish to be involved in whatever the lady was carrying on about, so she did her best to hide. She turned away towards the wall, lowered her eyes in a most demure manner and slithered over into a corner, hoping she would not be noticed. That hope turned out to be in vain, as the lady marched up to her and said imperiously, "You there, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Molly curtseyed properly, or as properly as she could remember, kept her eyes downcast and answered, "Molly ma'am. I am assisting due to illness. I am lighting the lamps, my lady."

The matriarch gave almost a grunt, as if she thought the lamps somehow lit themselves every evening, then she huffed and shoved a pile of books covered in fine, smooth calfskin leather into her hand and said imperiously, "I will not have this filth in my house. Get rid of these. I want them burned", then marched off in search of her next victim. Molly could not conceive of why a footman had not been given the task, except that perhaps the footmen had enough sense to stay away from the immediate vicinity of the matriarch.

Molly was still standing dumbfounded when she saw the daughter of the estate come out of the bedroom. She had never met the heiress, who seemed nice enough; although it was clear she wouldn't last five minutes in the laundry building; if she could even walk that far. The heiress asked, "Did my mother frighten you?"

Molly wanted no part of disparaging a lady, and said, "No my lady. All is well. Her instruction was clear enough."

The daughter looked at the books in her hand and said kindly, "Do Not burn those. That would be criminal. Let my mother clearly see you taking them from the house towards the laundry building and she will consider the problem solved. Then take them to the bookseller. He'll give you a good price, and if I want to read them again, I'll just buy them again when mother isn't looking."

Molly felt like a great conspirator, and said, "I will follow your instructions to the letter, my lady."

"Thank you, Molly. I can't abide a good book being destroyed, and you should have something for your trouble."

It wasn't for several minutes that Molly began to wonder how the daughter had known her name.

* * *

Molly brought her treasure home that evening, and all the women shared in her good fortune. She had no idea how much a book costs, but she thought it might be as much as a shilling or even two! Little took one of the books in her hand and examined it carefully.

"Molly, where did you get these?"

Molly told the entire story while Mary listened carefully. Fierce as she was, Mary still lived in fear that some member of the gentry would interfere with the fine life she made for herself. They might do so at a whim, and there wouldn't be that much she could do about it. Of course, she wasn't the frightened mouse that ran away from a little argument with a gentleman what seemed like years ago now. Nor was she the timid daughter that would just allow her farther to tease and insult her continually. She felt grown up now. At worst, she could always board the coach, go to another village and establish herself again just as she had here, but she did not want to. She liked it here, and she would fight to keep it. She was slightly worried that the scandal from Hertfordshire might also follow her, but not overly so. Almost nobody in the village even remembered her given name, let alone her surname, and so partly from practicality, and to be honest, partly from pride, she encouraged her nickname. Some of the villagers had even taken to calling the group the Little Pride, and they all seemed to enjoy it. So Mary was not _afraid_ of the gentry particularly, but she did think she could be mightily inconvenienced by them, which was not to her liking.

The situation with the books was a conundrum. They had the choice to follow the direction of the matriarch or the daughter, but following one would necessarily mean ignoring the other. How could she at least appear to follow both? Molly was giddy over the possibility of making a shilling or more for doing almost nothing, but Mary was much more cautious. She came up with a plan.

"Molly, do you know how much these books are _actually_ worth?"

"No Little, I have no idea."

Mary looked carefully at the four volumes and their binding, which were of the quality you would expect from such a grand estate.

"The bookseller could tell you if you ask, but I believe they may have cost several pounds. You're carrying more than a month's wages."

Molly gasped, and Mary continued.

"We do not want to have either the patroness or her daughter think we disobeyed, so I think we should just keep them here for a time. We can always sell them later, and that way we have no chance of getting caught out."

The other women nodded at the advice. They were not timid little mice either, but after the altercation with the ruffians, they were more inclined to take the lion's advice when she offered, since it was usually sensible anyway.

Mary looked at the book, which she would have shrunk away from in horror before leaving Hertfordshire. She no longer gave the religious tracts she had been obsessed with in her previous life any sway, so maybe she should reconsider the value of novels. This four-volume set was called _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ , so with an attempt at a somewhat open mind, Mary sat back against the headboard of her bed and started reading.

 _"On the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony, stood, in the year 1584, the chateau of Monsieur St. Aubert…"_

The other women sat entranced, and even nearly comatose Madeline seemed exert herself to listen.

Being the only woman in the entire boarding house that could even read, let alone read well, Mary took up the practice of reading to the pride every night. Of course, she had to start over on the second night, and then again on the third as the other women in the boardinghouse joined to listen. Eventually, she started reading in the small parlor, and everyone accommodated as best they could.

Once that book was done, Mary spent a few shillings to subscribe to the lending library, and rediscovered the pleasure of reading. Perhaps, she could keep just a few of the better pieces of her old life. She even took to pulling children's books from the lending library on Sundays, and spent an hour or so reading to any children who wandered by, much to their delight.


	23. Reading is Work – May 15 1812

_A/N: Still on the book meme, we're back to Lizzy now. Thanks to Janwel and a few of my other reviewers for info on bookmaking in Regency times. I'll post a links in the forum for interesting links, and I suggest the forum if you like discussion and/or spoilers. Find directions for the forum at the top of chapter 11._

 _If you're wondering about all the book references, here's the explanation. I like books. That's all. I presume if you're reading this, you do too, so you'll cut me some slack ;) Wade_

* * *

Elizabeth was having breakfast with Mr. Wolcott and Mrs. Smyth when she thought it only fair to bring up the other looming problem that she had been avoiding for a fortnight. While she had complete faith in Mrs. Frog, she also knew that it was not fair to the man she had come to respect immensely in the dark a moment longer.

She also was now feeling a close affection for Mrs. Wolcott. She saw her trying to be strong all day, but she heard her crying in the night, just as she had been crying for months back in Hertfordshire, and with more reason. Just as she would with a sister, she had taken to joining the young woman in her room at night to offer what comfort she could. Affection and time were what the woman needed, and to the best of her ability, Elizabeth would provide that. Hiding her intentions was a poor way to go about it.

"Mr. Wolcott. Mrs. Wolcott, I'm afraid I have not been entirely candid with you, and so I have some other rather distressing news that I must share now."

Mr. Wolcott just looked at her and said, "Go on"

"I'm afraid, I'm not the only Bennet sister that will be looking for a home with a newborn babe."

Once she started, Elizabeth poured out the entire story of the Bennet's, from Mary's altercation at the ball, to Jane's employment, to their current predicament; then prepared for the judgment she was certain was her due.

Mr. Wolcott was not a man easily rattled, or a rash or precipitous man, so he noticed her look of fear and said, "Do not be afraid, Miss Bennet. I just need a moment to think."

True to his word, Mr. Wolcott spent the next several moments deep in thought, before he replied.

"Miss Bennet, how much do you know about books?"

"Quite a lot I think. I obviously didn't attend Cambridge, but my father says I can hold my own with most who did. I can talk intelligently about history, novels, classics and even some mathematics although only the most rudimentary types. I have some French, and even some Latin and Greek."

Mr. Wolcott chuckled at that pronouncement, and said, "I already know that, or you would not be allowed to work in my shop. No, I don't mean the _inside_ of books… I mean the _outside_.

Lizzy looked at him in puzzlement and replied, "I'm afraid I don't take your meaning, sir."

"How much do you know about how books are written, how they are printed or bound, how they are delivered to the customer, how much they cost?"

Elizabeth hated to admit ignorance, but she had found she must become accustomed to it in this new life she had chosen, and said, "Practically nothing!"

Mr. Wolcott was happy to see that she did not profess knowledge she did not possess, which would make instruction easier as there was to be quite a lot of instruction in all the Bennet sisters' futures.

"Miss Bennet, books are made by hand. With a long process of many steps over weeks or months, and much of that work is done by women. Much of it is hard and dirty work, but it does pay reasonably well."

Elizabeth now looked at him with a look of fascination. This was all knowledge that not only did she not possess, but it had never occurred to her to even think about it.

Mr. Wolcott continued.

"The author writes something they think worthy, which usually has a lot of revisions and markings. First, someone must write a _clean copy_. How is your penmanship Miss Bennet?"

"Among the best I would say sir. I take some pride in it."

Well then, some authors make their own clean copies. There are a new crop of women writers now showing up, and they mostly do their own clean copies, but many established writers hire others to do it. Some may even have several clean copies made until they feel the text is perfect. That is something you could do to earn some coin. It's not steady work, but you won't have as much competition for it as you might think. Most working women are nearly or close to illiterate, most of the gentry are in the leisure class and cannot or will not work. Many who fall from the gentry as you appear bound to do cannot write well. Most take to the obvious traditional employments as governesses or companions. Most gentlemen learn a lot more about chasing small animals on horseback than penmanship. The remaining pool is smaller than you might think. There is demand for that, from time to time, and I can probably find you such work.

Elizabeth thought that all sounded too easy, and asked, "Is that all. It sounds easy enough, but there cannot possibly be enough similar work to make a living, and I have to admit my sister's handwriting is atrocious, so she will not be learning that pursuit, I'm afraid."

Mr. Wolcott said, "That won't matter. I can't possibly find work for more than one in that trade, but there are the rest of the steps. Books are printed on a large printing press with several pages per sheet, on parchment that is made by hand. That work is mostly done by men. Once they're done, the pages must be cut and trimmed. The bindings must be stitched. The covers must be attached. The engraving must be done."

Mr. Wolcott went to the shop and pulled down a book to use as an example.

"These edges are all trimmed by hand. This stitching is all done by hand. The leather covers are attached by hand. There are another dozen steps, all done by hand, and all of them can and frequently are be done by women. I don't know for certain that we can get work for all three of you, but we can try. Some of the work requires noxious and smelly processes, so we will try to avoid them with so many babes underfoot, but I am certain we can get some work. It's hard work. You will have to wear gloves and masks, and it will still destroy your soft hands."

Elizabeth felt a sigh of relief. She had been avoiding this conversation so long, and Mr. Wolcott had seemed to make it all so easy. It could not possibly be _that_ easy, but it at least seemed possible.

"Mr. Wolcott, you are truly a saint. I understand all of these things are harder than they sound, but Jane and I will be diligent and we will not let you down."

Mr. Wolcott laughed and said, "Do not mistake prudence for altruism Miss Bennet. I have a daughter and a grandchild to care for and no son to take up the burden. You and your sister make that easier rather than harder. Understand that you will work harder than you ever have in your life, but none of the children under my care will starve or grow up as ignorant louts while I draw breath."

Elizabeth looked at him wistfully, wondering where her own father had lost this ability, if he ever had it in the first place. She couldn't wait to write to Jane and tell her all the news.


	24. Pig's Paradise – May 4 1812

_A/N: I finally have Mary on the same timeline as Lizzy and Darcy – Yay! This chapter has been floating around in my head for weeks and was pure fun to write, so I hope you like it. Wade_

* * *

Mary Bennet was finding her Monday exertions much to her liking. She would never have picked this village out of all the villages in England had she known where she was, but she found that if she avoided certain individuals, such as the local parson and most of the gentry at the grand estate, all was well with the world. Fortunately, avoiding the grand estate's parlor and avoiding the parson were apparently the same thing, so it was easily managed. She laughed at the idea of a washerwoman walking into the parlor of a grand estate. She'd have to iron her dress for a week just to go into the kitchen.

The Little Pride as they were styled in the village was currently engaged in a _tiny_ little bit of subterfuge. Like any village, it contained its share of widows and pensioners living on some meagre savings or a small annuity given by the estate. Mary and the rest of the villagers did not practice charity, as that was not their business. They were however somewhat less diligent in collecting from some accounts than from others. The baker employed a boy for deliveries who received surprisingly little censure when he happened to deliver bread to a widow that was marked for a family. The boy obviously couldn't take it back, so the baker just chuckled and gave him more. The butcher collected his accounts like an army sergeant, with just one or two exceptions here and there, where his precision was not quite what it ought to be. For Mary's part, she thought that she did more actual good in the world by washing a shift or a shirt than with all the wasted proselytizing she did in her youth. She also found her ability to change coins suspiciously inept, and she might leave a penny when a farthing was due, or a shilling in exchange for 10 pennies. It wasn't charity, just absentmindedness.

She was in a hurry to get back to the boarding house after gathering a load of laundry from the widow Grymes. Mrs. Grymes had two sons who had been killed in the endless wars Britain seemed to be engaged in, and a daughter who had married reasonably well but lived too far away to be of much help. She got a small stipend from the estate that might keep her alive, but not much more, so Mary and the rest of the village helped her out here and there. It wasn't charity, just the right thing to do, just as Mary had been taught by Mrs. Stewart back in November. She reflected that of all the most important lessons she had learned in her life, most had come from strangers and almost none from her parents.

These ruminations left Mary deep in thought. Mrs. Grymes had done nothing wrong in her life. She had worked hard, enjoyed her life with her husband, raised three fine children, sent her sons off to fight with honor as was required, and yet was spending her dotage dependent on the good fortune of generous neighbors. Mary was well enjoying her new life, but she was also beginning to get a feeling for just how precarious it could be, even for someone who did everything right. Life could be cruel, and she needed to prepare for it.

She as thinking hard on what that would mean for her life, when she saw someone out of the corner of her eye that she had never expected to see again in her life. _What was she doing here?_ The sight disrupted her equanimity just enough, that she lost her focused attention and ran headlong, full tilt into a passing woodcutter. He was a very tall man, and they both tumbled flat out, arms akimbo, laundry flying through the air to land flat out in a six-inch-deep mud puddle, he with the wind knocked out of him by Mary landing square on top of his chest.

Mary was thoroughly mortified by the whole experience. Was she always to be running into men at the worst times? Was she the clumsiest girl in England? At least, this time it wasn't a gentleman so the damage would be salvageable. At least a woodcutter could take a tumble. She set about trying to make things right, hoping it could all be done quickly and with little fuss. First she had to disentangle the arms and legs and then step back as quickly and with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Savage. I believe I was completely at fault, and I will be happy to clean your clothes for you. Please accept my apologies."

She knew Mr. Savage slightly from an assembly she had attended the previous month. He was a woodcutter, much taller than just about anyone else in the village, and he had asked her to dance. Mary had been as surprised at the application as she would have been had Mr. Bingley asked her first back in her old life. People just did not ask Mary Bennet to dance. It turned out, that people did ask Little Lion to dance, if they could work up the nerve, since she was apparently a touch frightening now. Mary, much to her surprise had actually enjoyed several dances, and her partners who did not seem to have any reason to repine either. It was just like the assemblies they used to have in Meryton, except she wasn't hiding in the corner with a book. She had even exerted herself to buy a small bit of lace for her dress before the ball. She chided herself that she was turning into Lydia, but one bit of lace did not a hoyden make, and she enjoyed her lace.

She was certain Mr. Savage would be amenable to getting his cleaning done, and all would be forgiven within an hour, so this particular accident would at least not send her tumbling down yet another cliff. She was therefore completely shocked when Mr. Savage started laughing. At first, it was just a slight chuckle. Then it started getting louder and louder, until it was a full-blown belly laugh, ending with a cackle that could have come from a madman. What in the world was Mr. Savage about?

Mary had managed to disentangle herself from him while he was laughing, which was fortunate. A moment's reflection told her if she had gone into the mud like that when she was a gentlewoman, she would have been stuck in the parson's mousetrap with whoever the hapless gentleman was within a week. It may have been the first time she felt truly fortunate to not to have any chance of returning to her previous station. She would marry if and when she was ready, and not a moment before. Really, the longer she spent in her new station the more ridiculous she found the rules of her old life to be.

However, it was time to quit woolgathering. Mr. Savage seemed to have gotten himself somewhat under regulation, as she disentangled herself from him and started gathering up the scattered clothes. There was one more bit of mud she was going to have to clean, but the damage didn't seem to be anything that should cause her undue concern. As a woodcutter, Mr. Savage wouldn't be afraid of a little mud, so she was sure she could work out an amenable arrangement to get him cleaned up once he quit acting like a lunatic.

Mr. Savage finally quit laughing, and said the oddest thing imaginable.

"Do not fret miss. The mishap was entirely my fault. To tell you the truth, I've had a couple of bad days, or actually, several bad months. This has been the high point of my week, so I will offer thanks instead of censure. May I presume I have the privilege of addressing Miss Little? Or is it Miss Lion?"

Mary felt at that moment like she had gone mad, or that she wanted to run for the stage this very moment. Mr. Savage knew perfectly well who she was, but _this_ was not Mr. Savage. She tilted her head down to be sure that he could not see her face. Covered in mud as it was she was probably nearly unrecognizable, but still she was filled with mortification, for she knew exactly who the woodcutter was.

She couldn't just stand there like a lump, nor could she run off screaming just yet, so she did the only think she could think of… she answered his question, "Either will do."

The man, apparently not a fastidious practitioner of the rules of propriety continued with his own introduction, still sitting in the middle of the puddle, six inches deep in mud, but quietly so that only she would be able to hear.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Lion. I have heard much about you, and all of it to your credit. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service ma'am"

Mary wanted to scream. Or run. Or run and scream. It wasn't as if she hadn't known she was in Hunsford by the end of the first week. It wasn't as if she didn't know her odious cousin was the local parson, or that the grand estate she did laundry for was Rosings. She just thought that she could live her life in its shadow and never be any the worse for it. Everyone she ever knew from before was of the gentry. They were quite unlikely to ever pay the slightest attention to a laundress, in the unlikely event they should they ever meet her. She doubted her cousin Collins would even recognize her if she introduced herself without Jane or Lizzy standing next to her. Quite frankly, she doubted she would ever encounter him even once, so long as she avoided the drawing room at Rosings and his dining table; with to all accounts were his favorite haunts. Even though living so close to her cousin seemed like a precarious position, she felt she was as safe from detection here as she would be anywhere. It was not as if the Netherfield party was going to travel to Hunsford, or her cousin would have chosen a bride from Meryton after the debacle at the ball. No, Mary felt that so long as she never let her cousin get a good look at her, she would never be recognized. Her nickname guaranteed another bit of anonymity.

Now, all was probably lost. Once again, she was staring at the edge of a cliff. Though she thought herself quite prepared for it this time, she was not happy about the prospects. Here she was, covered in mud with none other than the ever-hated Mr. Darcy, while none other than Charlotte Lucas stood not a dozen paces away looking on. Come to think of it, why was Mr. Darcy dressed as a woodcutter, and talking so quietly? Fortunately, Mary knew Charlotte well, and knew her eyesight was poor enough that she had no chance of discovery so long as she didn't come any closer, so that problem could wait. Mr. Darcy seemed inclined to forgive and forget and be on his way with a minimum of fuss, so there was really no need to do anything. A little politeness and respect, and the whole thing would be resolved in a few minutes. She knew she couldn't avoid Charlotte forever, but it could wait. She could see Charlotte now had a matron's cap, so it was clear she had been married since Mary left Hertfordshire. Maybe she had married her cousin. It would have been a good match for her, so that was probably it. It was a problem for later.

Mary recognized that Mr. Darcy was speaking quietly, so she spoke quietly to match him. There was no need to create any more of a scene than she already had.

"Mr. Darcy, if you are in agreement that there was no fault; I suggest we both go about our own pursuits. Good day to you, sir."

With what she thought was a good attitude of finality, Mary reached down to pick her basket and go on her way, well happy to be done with the encounter.

Apparently, Mr. Darcy was not done with her though, as he replied, "Miss Little. A moment of your time, if you please"

Not seeing any even moderately polite way out of it, Mary answered, "Yes, Mr. Darcy"

"Miss Little, hard as it may be to believe, you have brightened my day and even my month. I would like to perform a service for you."

Mary scrunched her face in confusion, and even dared to glance at the man to see if he had gone mad, but then thought better of it. If she could see his face, he could see hers. He doubted he would remember her, but there was no point in taking chances. Charlotte, probably Collins, was bad enough.

"Mr. Darcy. Do you always speak in riddles? I see no need of any service, nor can I even think of an appropriate one to ask for. I do thank you for the offer though."

Mary once again reached for her basket, but Mr. Darcy apparently wasn't to be so easily dissuaded.

"Miss Little, please. I can understand your reluctance, but I would ask you to reconsider. I can go back to town feeling like I've had a wasted trip, or feeling like I've accomplished something. You can help me do the latter. My equanimity is in your hands. Please, name a service that I may perform."

Mary thought about it. Mr. Darcy was acting very peculiarly. He didn't make very much sense, but when had he ever? He was rich as Croesus and well educated though. There was only one thing she could think that was important enough to warrant talking to him again.

"Mr. Darcy, you are obviously an educated man. If you insist on some service, perhaps you could offer some advice."

She was amazed that she was still talking to him, but the die had been cast so she would follow this particular cliff wherever it lead to.

"I would be honored, Miss Little. How may I be of service?"

Mary drew in a deep breath and asked, "Mr. Darcy. I have a friend who has been sick seemingly near to death for more than five months. My sisters and I have been taking care of her all this time, and we have consulted every physician and apothecary within 10 miles, but none offer any relief. Quite frankly, they offer contradictory advice, but we've tried everything they suggested with no result."

Mary had gone this far, and would finish the hand.

"Can you tell us what to do Mr. Darcy? We are quite at a loss. Her health is the only thing we lack to be completely satisfied."

Darcy asked, "It's admirable that you are all taking care of her. Is she a good friend of yours?"

Mary was so deep in thought that she was unconsciously allowing her speech patterns to revert somewhat to her old genteel way of speaking, which sounded odd to Darcy, but it would be some time before his mind could put the pieces together. She also vaguely reminded him of someone, but he couldn't put that together either.

"I've never actually spoken to her. She was sick when I arrived in December, and has been ever since."

"So you're spending your earnings helping someone you've never met?" he asked, not in astonishment, as it wasn't the strangest thing he had ever heard, but it was on the unusual side.

"Yes sir. I like to believe when it's my turn to be ill, they will do the same."

Darcy asked softly, "And do you expect your turn to come soon?"

Mary said, "Life is long and hard Mr. Darcy. My turn will most assuredly come sooner or later."

Darcy was saddened by the fatalism of the statement, but could not argue with it.

"Take me to your sister, Miss Little. I will need to report her symptoms with some precision to my physician."

"Your physician, sir?" Mary asked in confusion.

"Yes Miss Little. Advice is worthless without action. I'm to return to town this afternoon, and my physician will be here tomorrow. I want him to be prepared for what he finds."

"Mr. Darcy, that is too generous. You offered a service, and a bit of advice seems like adequate recompense for throwing you in the mud", Mary added with just a touch of impertinence. First she was emulating Lydia with her lace, and now apparently it was time to copy Lizzy.

Darcy laughed, and said, "Miss Little, sending my physician is little more trouble to me than you will spend cleaning your own dress. I will consider it a bargain if you will forgive my clumsiness."

Mary would have to rethink whatever she thought about Mr. Darcy at another time, but for now, there was work to be done, once she answered one more nagging question.

"Mr. Darcy, if I may be so bold as to ask, why are you wearing Mr. Savage's clothes. I know Mr. Savage slightly, and I am nearly certain you are not him."

Darcy chuckled once again. Strangely enough, he trusted this odd woman, but had no idea why.

"To tell the truth Miss Little, I had some urgent business with Mrs. Collins and I did not want anyone in Rosings to know I was here."

Mary chuckled a bit as well, "I believe that falling in a mud puddle in the middle of the village may not have been your best strategy, sir. Do you still wish to remain unknown at Rosings?"

"I would prefer it."

"Very well, I shall see to it."

Mary waved a passing youth over, and told him, "Please have Mr. Savage come to my boarding house immediately. Tell him it's worth a shilling to him to be there within ten minutes. And here's a penny for your trouble."

The boy hurried off, and Mary thought a bit about what she would feed into the gossip mill to keep Mr. Darcy's presence secret. It might work or it might not, but she would do her best and it would have to do. Now it was time to get to work.

"Come along then Mr. Darcy. You need not worry about propriety. You have no chance of entering a room with less than a dozen women in it where we're going."

Darcy was once again struck by the oddness of her speech patterns. It was an unusual mixture of the accents of the lower classes, but a vocabulary more appropriate for a gentlewoman, and that nagging familiarity. There was more to be learned about this Miss Little, and he intended to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps Mrs. Collins could be of assistance. For the moment, he had a task to perform, and with that he must be satisfied.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley was about to enter the Lion's den, and should he survive that, he thought he might actually do well in his next meeting with the other new lioness in his life, his sister.

* * *

 _A/N: Some reviewers confused by the woodcutter disguise, and I forget it's been awhile. All the way back in chapter 6, Darcy used that to sneak into Hunsford to ask Charlotte to talk to Lizzy. This is the day Charlotte went to see her for the second time and she was gone with Mrs. Frog. This has been one of the funnest chapters to write. That mud-puddle scene has been taunting me forever._

 _P.S. I went back and added a minor edit to try to make the whole woodcutter disguise thing easier to understand._

 _Wade_


	25. Business Arrangements – May 15 1812

A/N: Got a twofer for you today, all Darcy and Georgiana… oh, and the hapless Bingley.

* * *

"Mr. Bingley, sir"

Darcy looked up from his desk at his butler, and nodded for him to allow Bingley entrance. There had been a time when Charles Bingley was as frequent a fixture in Darcy's house as his cousin, and he had come and gone almost as a resident. Since the winter, although neither of the men really discussed or acknowledged it, their relationship had cooled. Both were somewhat uncomfortable with the events in Hertfordshire, and the easiest way to not think about it was to not be in each other's company.

For Darcy, Bingley's absence neither helped nor hurt him in his quest to either step away from his own personal cliff, or embrace it and rid it down. He might destroy himself or he might not, and Bingley wouldn't change anything. He did however find it easier to deal with it on his own than with Bingley to remind him of the events. There was also the matter of Bingley's sisters who came along with him. Darcy could hardly abide the idea of spending any time with either of them, now that he had met real ladies. It had taken him some time to realize that the two eldest could not be faulted in any way whatsoever, and even Mary at her worst didn't say anything worse than the Bingley sisters said every day.

For Bingley, there really was no cliff, and he was still standing amiably at the top of his personal path with no danger in sight. Perhaps a man with more character would have felt bad about the way they left Netherfield, but Bingley was an affable and easy going man in every way. He had fancied himself in love many times, and allowing his sister to convince him Miss Bennet was just one more fortune hunter had not been that difficult. To acknowledge to himself that he might have had his heart engaged, or that he had acted poorly to a woman who had only behaved honorably would have been very difficult for a man of his character. With these difficulties the easiest thing to do was just ignore the whole thing and move on with his life. He was done with the Bennets, and there really was nothing more to be said about it. There were amusements enough in town to fully occupy him, and he pursued them with the same energy he had before his stay at Netherfield.

Bingley looked critically at Darcy. The two men had not been in company very much in the last half-year. In fact, Bingley hadn't seen him at all in the previous month or two; and only sporadically in the months before. He had to admit, Darcy did not look so good. He had lost weight, his hair was not trimmed properly, and his clothes did not fit quite as well as they once had. The fact that the ever fastidious Darcy hadn't had them taken in spoke to some disturbance of his friend. However, once this had been noted, Bingley didn't give it much more thought. Deep introspection was not really in his nature, and Darcy was a fully grown man and master of an estate after all.

"I say Darcy, you are looking… different."

Darcy wondered what the younger man was thinking, but was not overly concerned. He had his own agenda for the meeting, and wanted to advance to the next step of Georgiana's plan. After months of reflection, and Georgiana's educational discussion, he had come to feel just how badly he had played his hand in Hertfordshire. He didn't really like being with Bingley, partly because his old friend would be a constant reminder of his failures, and partly because Bingley seemed so unaffected by the whole thing. Darcy didn't know whether to admire or despise the younger man. Unlike Bingley, deep thinking _was_ in his nature, but his deep thinking had been going in circles for months. It was time to break out of the loop.

"Yes, Bingley things have been a bit… difficult during the spring."

Bingley asked good naturedly, "Steady on old chap. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Charles Bingley thought an offer to help amounted to an offer to take Darcy along for some amusements. Perhaps some sport, or some entertainments at his club, or the opera or some other example of the things Darcy favored. Nothing particularly difficult, mind you.

"Yes Bingley, there is. I have a problem, and you have a problem. Oddly enough, the solution to both is one and the same."

Bingley was intrigued, and exclaimed, "Out with it man! What is it?"

Darcy worded his next reply carefully.

"I want you to transfer the lease of Netherfield to me."

Had Bingley spent a fortnight trying to guess what Darcy wanted of him, this would _not_ have been on the list. He sat dumbfounded for a moment, and then spit out the first thing that came to mind, "You realize you already have an estate of your own?"

"I am aware", Darcy replied with just a touch of amusement.

Bingley tried to rally, and replied, "So do you care to explain why you want one more?"

Darcy did _not_ actually want to explain, or at least no more than was required. To say it aloud might make it real. Besides that, Bingley could occasionally be loose-lipped, and anything he knew was likely to be common gossip before the day was out if Darcy didn't carefully extract a vow of silence. Darcy knew he was stepping into a snake pit of gossip with his next move anyway, but he wanted to slow and control it as much as possible.

"Bingley, I have some… business in Hertfordshire. It is of a delicate nature, and I need an estate to perform it credibly. Netherfield will suit my purposes."

Bingley was taken aback by his friend's perverse plan, but not as much as one might think. He had been slightly worried about what was happening with Netherfield while he neglected it. He certainly didn't want to go back the`tre, but he _had_ taken the lease, and he _had_ taken responsibility and now he was neglecting his duty. If the place burned down in his absence, he might have a tremendous bother and expense, and who knew what the tenants were up to. His father had wanted him to join the landed gentry, but now he wasn't sure he was cut out for it. Maybe it was best to wait a year or three, and try again… somewhere else.

"Do you wish to elaborate on your business in Hertfordshire, Darcy? You know the Bennet family is now mired in scandal up to its eyeballs. Caroline can hardly stop talking about how narrow our escape was."

Darcy, not wishing to explore this topic too deeply said, "I am aware of the situation with the Bennets. My business is independent of the scandal."

Bingley thought this sounded just like the double-talk his solicitors liked to use to confuse him, and he looked at Darcy suspiciously. There was really no reason not to indulge Darcy with the lease. It wasn't as if he wanted to return there anytime soon, or ever for that matter, but he did want to understand what his friend was about.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there Darcy."

"There are a number of things I'm not telling you Bingley. Given a choice, I would prefer to keep my own council on this one."

Bingley looked at his friend, and made a wild guess, "It's a woman, isn't it?"

Seeing his friend's reaction was all the confirmation he required, and he started grinning from ear to ear.

"Darcy, don't tell me you're in love."

Darcy didn't really want to answer that one, but had to say something.

"I'd really rather not discuss it."

With Darcy as much as admitting it, Bingley started trying to put two and two together. He would have bet his sister's dowry that Darcy didn't favor Miss Jane. He had seemed mostly bored to death by her… wait… bored to death with the calmest and serenest Bennet sister.

Bingley threw back his head and cackled like a madman with glee.

"Darcy, you are in love aren't you… You're in love with _Miss Elizabeth Bennet_."

The look on Darcy's face was priceless, and all the confirmation Bingley needed.

Laughing uproariously, Bingley said, "Well, where do I sign Darcy? Can I go with you to watch as you show me how courting is done properly?"

"No"

"Why not?"

Darcy heaved a sigh of resignation, and answered reluctantly, "She's not there."

"Not there"

"Not there. You _have_ heard of the depth and breadth of the scandal I presume. It could hardly be otherwise living with your sisters."

"Oh yes, I've heard it many times."

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Jane and Miss Mary have all decamped from Hertfordshire. Nobody knows where they've gone."

Bingley looked intrigued and said, "Extraordinary! I guess they struck out to make a new life for themselves elsewhere abandoning their family."

"I don't think so. At least not the eldest two. Miss Mary does seem to have done so."

"So, what are the eldest doing?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out"

Bingley looked a bit thoughtful and asked, "Why don't you just find one of the missing sisters and ask her?"

Darcy looked at him thoughtfully, and decided he would trust the man. He wasn't the steadiest of men, but he could keep his own council when he chose, so he extracted a promise of silence before continuing, which Bingley readily agreed to.

"I tried. I've been trying since February. I happened by sheer chance to stumble on Miss Elizabeth in Kent, within a mile of my aunt's estate, if you can believe that. She was working as a companion."

Bingley laughed at the vagaries of fate and asked, "So what did she have to say about her grand plan?"

"Nothing"

Bingley looked confused and asked, "So what _did_ she say?"

Darcy looked crestfallen, and said, "Nothing at all. She won't talk to me."

"Why not"

Darcy finally admitted his darkest secret.

"She fears me." And after a small pause, "Oh, and I think she despises me too."

Bingley laughed, although not with the force of his previous amusements.

"Little wonder after the way you treated her and her sister at the ball."

Darcy felt a burning anger at the nonchalant and flippant way the younger man had said that, and replied, "You are not without fault yourself, Bingley. I may not have acted the gentleman, but at least I didn't engage a lady's affections and then leave the county without a word."

Bingley jumped up to defend his honor, but just as quickly sat back down, blew out his breath, and said, "You may be right, Darcy."

For perhaps the first time, Bingley really reflected on what he may have lost, of what his actions may have wrought on Jane Bennet, but he wasn't a man very prone to unpleasant reflections. Almost back to his old jovial self, he asked, "So did you give up just because she wouldn't talk to you once? Not very persistent, Darcy."

Darcy secretly agreed, but said, "I engaged Mrs. Collins to try to convince her. You may remember her, the former Miss Charlotte Lucas? She visited her once, and the second time she went there, Miss Elizabeth was gone. She left with her employer, and nobody will say where."

Bingley absorbed that. Thing certainly didn't seem to be going well for Darcy. He asked somewhat impertenantly, given his small stake in the answer, "So Darcy, is there any hope for us?"

"I don't know Bingley. Have you gone stark raving mad yet?"

"No, I'm fit as can be."

"Then maybe there's hope for one of us"

Bingley thought their business must be about done and said, "I presume you have papers for me to sign?"

"I've taken the liberty."

"I would expect no less."

Bingley took the stack of papers, and scrawled his nearly illegible signature in all the places Darcy indicated. He trusted the older man implicitly, and his solicitor was the very best you could get, so who was he to question it.

As the gentlemen finished up their business, and Bingley got up to leave, Darcy added on parting comment.

"Bingley, I would prefer that your sisters know as little as possible about my affairs. There will be gossip enough without them fanning it."

Bingley felt he should defend his sisters more, but he really wasn't up to it since they deserved any criticism Darcy had for them and probably more.

"They will learn nothing from me Darcy."

"Thank you, Bingley."

As Bingley left the study, he added one last comment, "Oh, one more thing Darcy."

"Yes"

"You're quite mad, you know."

Darcy blew out a breath and said, "I am well aware my friend. Take care, and please keep your own council. It's important."

Bingley was just leaving the library, when Georgiana stepped in and bid him a good day. They chatted amiably for a few minutes and then Darcy said, "Georgiana, Please ask your maid to pack up. We leave tomorrow."

Georgiana looked a bit surprised, and asked, "Where to?"

Darcy looked at her appraisingly and said, "We are to follow your wise council. We're off to Hertfordshire."

Georgiana jumped up and clapped her hands together in glee, but Darcy felt the need to dampen her enthusiasm. He waited until Bingley left before adding a bit more.

"Georgiana, there's something you need to know before we go."

"Yes"

"Wickham is there."

"And what do you intend to do about him?" she replied with fire in her eyes, not the least daunted by the prospect of facing him again. She wasn't the shrinking violet of a year ago.

Darcy replied, "It's high time I did something about him. I have enough vowels to put him in debtor's prison. I should have done it a year ago, and I intend to do it now."

Georgiana showed not the slightest sign of remorse with this plan.

"You're right. You should have done it a year ago, but now will have to do."


	26. One Step Forward… May 17 1812

"Brother what are you about!"

Georgiana's shout brought Fitzwilliam Darcy back from the very brink. He was just about to, for the very first time in his life, throw something against the wall and smash it like Caroline Bingley. Georgiana's shout just barely saved a small trinket that had been in the family for generations.

Darcy collapsed into the nearest chair and replied, "My apologies Georgie. I'm afraid I quite lost my temper."

Georgiana looked at her brother askance. Somehow in the last year's tutelage with Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana had acquired a bit of wisdom, which her brother was occasionally sorely in need of. It felt quite good to be for once providing a valuable service instead of just relying on her brother for everything.

She replied, "Don't burn yourself up over it William. You've held yourself in check for so many years now, something is bound to escape sooner or later. Do you care to tell me what has you so bothered?"

Darcy pointed to a letter laying on the desk, while he hung his head with a melancholy air. Georgiana picked up the letter and asked, "Who is Mr. Wilson?"

"He's a man I have helping me try to find the Bennet sisters."

"You only have one man looking? That could take forever."

"No, I actually have several. He's just the one I have in Hertfordshire at the moment."

Georgiana started reading the letter, and looked up in confusion. The letter was indeed puzzling, but she couldn't see anything in it that warranted the rage her brother seemed to be suffering. She correctly assumed the second page would explain all, but thought it wouldn't hurt to walk her brother back from the edge a bit.

Georgiana said, "I'm confused. This is actually from Kent, not Hertfordshire, and who is Miss Little."

Darcy didn't really want to get into that right now, so he said, "I'll tell you in the coach. It's a good story, and I want you to meet her sometime. We knocked each over into a mud puddle."

Georgiana gasped and said, "You fell _into a mud puddle_ with a _lady_ in _Kent_ and you're not _engaged_. How did you accomplish that?". It did seem to be working with her brother as he was calming down. When had he become so flighty, she wondered? If this was true love, she wasn't certain she wanted any part of it.

"The young woman as not inclined towards marriage. Oh, and she's a laundress so not so overly concerned with propriety. Besides that, I was dressed as a woodcutter at the time."

Georgiana just felt her head spinning, but would take his advice and defer the full story until the carriage ride… but tell it, he would if she had to drag it out with her fingernails.

"So you wish to introduce me to a laundress you met in a mud puddle, for whom you sent your personal physician to administer to a friend she doesn't actually know?"

"Yes, that's about it"

Georgiana had to laugh for some time, before turning to the more serious second page.

She gasped when she got to the first paragraph, and said, "So, Mr. Wickham is dead. I have to say, good riddance to the scoundrel! Why so glum?"

Darcy said, "That was the first thing I intended to do to help the Bennets, and I wanted the satisfaction of finally dealing with that scoundrel. Now the job has been taken out of my hands by none other than the hapless Mr. Bennet who has entirely given up on his family and spends all day drinking in his library, yet he managed to dispatch my worst enemy."

With that, Darcy slumped his shoulders in disappointment.

Georgiana asked, "So, is this to be the way for the Master of Pemberley… to give up at the first setback? I only wish to be instructed so I know what to do after you die childless and I'm stuck with the estate!"

That statement was enough to pull Darcy out of his funk, and once again he appreciated his sister's newfound wisdom and tenaciousness.

"And you don't mind that Wickham is dead?"

Georgiana gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher, and said, "No, I am not!"

Darcy thought maybe that look meant she was just frustrated she hadn't done the deed personally with her own hand, or maybe that he wasn't dead enough or dead soon enough. It was something to think about later.

Now he had to stop and think of the next steps. His business in Hertfordshire obviously wasn't going to end with Wickham anyway, so nothing was really changed except he had to start with the second task. He was just letting his anger and frustration at not being able to deal with Wickham personally send him out of sorts, like an errant and badly behaved schoolboy. He had to either find Elizabeth and convince her to save his sanity, or keep Georgiana around forever to keep him in check.

His thoughts were interrupted by another express from Wilson, which he hoped contained something he could use, as he could certainly do with some good news just now.

 _May 16 1812  
Meryton, Hertfordshire _

_Mr. Darcy,_

 _My apologies sir for my incomplete report yesterday, but I believed you would want tidengs of Wickham as soon as possible. Now I have other news to report._

 _The first is that the second youngest of the Bennet sisters, a Miss Catherine, known locally as Kitty lost the child she was carrying. It happened back in early March after we both left. The midwife I talked to assured me that it is quite common in the first three or four months, and the woman usually recovers after a time given proper care. Apparently, most women can expect this to happen at least once or twice during their lives. Perhaps you already know this, but I thought you should hear the full report. The midwife has been back to check on the girl several times in the last month, and reports she is listless and morose, barely picking at her food, losing weight and not doing well at all. The midwife was a kindly woman, and seemed quite knowledgeable to me for what that's worth with my limited grip on the subject._

 _I hate to spread rumors, but it is said nearly everywhere that her mother had gone quite nearly mad by all accounts even before this, and has now lost herself almost entirely. She is berating the middle child mercilessly, which would not seem to bode well for her recovery._

 _The youngest seems to have everything proper as to the baby, but she is a selfish and mean spirited girl, constantly picking at her next eldest sister and not giving her a moment's respite._

 _Based on what you have told me sir, I recommend you bring a physician to see to the girl, and possibly an intern from Bedlam to take care of the mother. For the father, nothing but port seems to be required._

 _I did also manage to make the acquaintance of a man who claims to have worked at the Bennet estate in the past. He gave me the direction to the uncle, who is apparently a tradesman, brother to Mrs. Bennet. His name is Gardiner, and he lives on Gracechurch Street near Cheapside. One of your other men should be able to hunt this Gardiner down in a matter of hours._

 _Yours etc &  
Malcolm Wilson_

Georgiana was quite happy to see Darcy jump up with renewed energy. Now there was something to do, and he would do it. It was unfortunate he had sent his personal physician to Kent a fortnight prior, but he had others available. The last she saw of him was a brief kiss on the forehead as he ran from the study yelling for his horse. This was her brother, and Georgiana was quite happy to see him back.

Going back to the parlor, she said, "Mrs. Annesley"

"Yes, dear"

"It appears we are off to Hertfordshire. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, dear. I think I might quite like it."


	27. The World Awaits – June 10 1812

_A/N: If you've been missing your Lizzy Fix, this longish chapter is for you. Things are starting to coalesce in the story, so let me know what you think. Wade_

* * *

Lizzy Bennet was frequently acknowledged as the cleverest of the Bennet girls. Perhaps she was or perhaps not, but she was the last of the three eldest to learn the supreme benefits of industry over idleness, application over brooding and results over accomplishments. In time, she did learn these lessons, and she was much happier for it. She also learned the supreme benefit of having someone actually _need_ her, rather than just enjoy her, or tolerate her or perhaps despise her. In the end, Elizabeth Bennet thought the bottom of her cliff wasn't so bad after all, and she even found a bit of peace and perhaps some healing along the base.

Each day, she had much to learn of the book trade, and reckoned she would be learning it for some years yet.

"Miss Bennet, how much should I sell this book for?" Mr. Wolcott asked.

Elizabeth examined the book in some depth. "It has a fine calfskin cover, well tooled, a good solid binding, is well stitched and seems to be a popular topic. I would imagine 5 or perhaps 10 shillings."

Mr. Wolcott nodded sagely while rubbing his chin and taking a puff on his pipe.

"Yes, should I be presented with a young lady such as you, with perhaps 30 to 50 pounds per annum, that price would be about right. Should the baker's boy come in, it would most assuredly be less. Should the master of that big estate over the hill deign to come in, he might consider it an insult if I tried to sell him such a trifling thing. He would happily pay a pound or two, and feel it a bargain. However, not all rich men can be counted on, so you need to know how to read them. One would consider it an insult to be offered a book for the same price as a penniless beggar in his exalted mind, and the next would consider you to be cheating him to charge more. You have to be able to think on your feet and understand which type of customer you are dealing with."

Lizzy laughed and said, "Would either of those gentlemen feel they were being cheated, or you were being dishonest should the price be higher."

"Most would not, as the money is of no import to them, and they believe paying more offords them a bit of respect; but there are those who would be most offended. You need to learn to recognize them. Most will simply choose to take their custom elsewhere if the shop, its contents or its shopkeepers do not meet their fancy. "

"What do you mean?"

Mr. Wolcott looked reflective, and said, "Some would prefer to buy from me or another man because they assume men are more learned. Some would prefer to buy from you because you're handsome, witty and intelligent."

Elizabeth blushed at the complement. It had been sometime since she really thought of herself in those terms, let alone that anyone else would, even a kindly old widower.

Mr. Wolcott continued, "One man may consider your obvious education a sign of a well-run establishment, and the next will consider you to be taking on airs. One will hope you can teach him something, and the next will be offended if you know more than he does. You will learn over time to recognize each of these, as they nearly all give themselves away within a second or two. A polite greeting is usually all that is necessary to determine which horse they sit. Of course, the masters of most of the local estates never come to this village at all, let alone my shop. I usually only get trade from gentlemen who are traveling through to somewhere else. Don't count on overcharging gentlemen as the route to success."

Elizabeth slyly said, "So long as we are doing well, I don't feel a great need to spend time with _great men_. I confess, I've had my fill, but have no fear. I will treat those that come in with respect and do my best to ease their path back to their grand estate by lightening their burden by a few pounds."

Mr. Wolcott looked laughed along with her, but since she obviously wouldn't offend any gentlemen who happened to stumble in, her attitude, which he assumed was well‑earned, would be her own business. She was clearly not born to the bookshop or to trade at all, but Mr. Wolcott took people as they came, and he was quite satisfied with Elizabeth. He didn't care if she were the queen's sister or the laundress; all were the same to him, so long as they had a love of the written word. He even dedicated most Sunday afternoons when the weather was fair to sitting in the village commons, reading to any children who happened to wander by.

Elizabeth was determined to learn everything he would teach, so she paid close attention to the lessons and applied herself to mastering it. She was also not that surprised to find Mrs. Frog still in attendance a month later. She imagined her son managed to run his estate without her, and this was a much more interesting and amusing locale. She had very little time to establish a foundation here before she had to disappear for a few weeks when Lydia's time came, so she worked as hard as possible to earn her place and establish their trade before that time came.

Mrs. Smyth was a wellspring of information about the upcoming babes, and she was of great service to both Elizabeth and to Mrs. Wolcott, both of whom had educations from mothers of the Fanny Bennet School of Mothering; meaning both were frightfully ignorant of anything and everything having to do with babies or mothering.

Days were spent in the company of all those who were slowly becoming much akin to a family. Elizabeth looked forward to the day Jane would join them, but did not feel in the least any lack in her current company. Her and Mrs. Wolcott were long on a given name basis and may as well have been lifelong sisters for the way they talked with each other. Mrs. Frog liked to call them the L sisters, Laura and Lizzy, and both women were young and impertinent enough to enjoy the moniker.

Mr. Wolcott was frequently away from the shop looking to buy profitable inventory, and he managed to find the fledgling group more work in the book trade. Lizzy found her work was acceptable to a writer or two, and she would spend some time while watching the shop making clean copies, or even (gasp), cleaning up the grammar for a writer with more wit than language skill. Other times, all the women did some other tasks for a local book printer, such as stitching the bindings. They could later expand to doing covers or tooling, but the small part they had to do now was difficult and demanding work; but added that much more coin to their purses.

They even found that Laura had a bit of talent with a paintbrush, and it looked like she would be able to do some occasional work illustrating volumes for collectors. Mr. Wolcott had to find just the right gentlemen for this work. Too rich and they had their own book making tradesmen and artists, or they might already have a favored shop. Too poor and they couldn't afford the more profitable volumes. He could see that they would be able to make a fine living from the book trade, although it may take many months to build up the trade, and he might have to spend more time plying his trade in town. He was to have a new grandchild, so he thought philosophically that he would certainly have the time, and he obviously need not worry about the welfare of the shop with such ladies in charge.

Evenings were spent making clothes for the coming babes and doing all the other myriad necessary tasks. Mr. Wolcott brought down his son's old cradle and lovingly cleaned and polished it while the ladies of the house repaired it's bedding. Mr. Wolcott had been a widow for some time and had left the baby business to his wife anyway, so other than lifting and carrying, he was as helpless as any other man. Fortunately, between Mrs. Frog and the local midwife, Elizabeth thought all was well in order by the time she had been there a month. She had obviously misjudged Laura's condition on arrival, but there was no debate now… her babe was imminent, and no mistake about it.

Laura Wolcott tried to be strong during the daylight and managed to project an air of confidence and invincibility, but Lizzy could hear her crying in her bed in the room they shared, and spent many a night just holding the young widow. Time and affection were what she needed, and Elizabeth was happy to offer both.

One night the two were lying awake in their beds, and Laura asked, "Lizzy, do you think we shall ever marry?"

Lizzy gave it some thought and said, "I believe you most certainly will. You are everything that's lovely, and once you have a healthy babe by your side and you have some leisure for courting, a good man will find you. It's inevitable. I will expect you to stay close though!"

"What about you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth thought carefully about her answer and gave it honestly.

"I don't know. When I was young and naïve, I always thought I would marry only for the deepest of love. Back then, I might have turned away a good suitor just because his manners were bad or I didn't fancy myself in love with him. Now I'll be responsible for another life, and that is difficult to do alone. I will probably be pragmatic about finding a husband eventually to share life's burdens. I do however want to marry on my own terms and in my own way; not be forced into it by family or circumstances or fortune."

Laura sighed and asked, "Do you still believe you will marry only for love?"

Lizzy had to admit, "I don't know if I believe in that anymore. I certainly have no example in my own home, and the people I thought most in love recently turned out to be just shadows, that blew away at the first breath of trouble."

Laura confided her biggest secret, "I never believed in love either, before it happened to me, and then it did and it was wonderful. Losing him ripped out most of my heart, but I can feel it growing back slowly, and I believe I will love again. Have some faith Elizabeth."

Elizabeth said, "I'll try."

* * *

Time passes as it generally does, and babies approach their upcoming cliff as babies are wont to, and little more than a month after Lizzy's arrival, she got to welcome little Samuel Wolcott to the world. When the appointed time came, Mr. Wolcott was banished to the local tavern, the shop was closed, the midwife was called and the serious business of bringing a baby into the world commenced like the shifting of the tides.

Little Samuel was as perfect as any boy could possibly be, to possibly the three most excited women in England. He of course had the requisite number of fingers and toes, and everyone who knew him agreed he had his father's eyes and hair. He gave as healthy of a scream to welcome his own cliff side landing as any babe ever had. Everyone quite agreed he looked at his mother with the look any youngster should give.

With little fuss, the midwife put the babe to his mother's breast to suckle, and as far as everyone in the room was concerned, all was right with the world. Mrs. Frog took the task of going to the tavern to bring back Mr. Wolcott to see his grandson.

With the newborn babe opening up her eyes, Elizabeth felt that she had never loved anything in the world as she did that young boy, and finally felt that she may be able to do the task she had set herself with credible results. Lydia's child would be as welcome as little Samuel was.

With her eyes thus opened, Elizabeth also started wondering exactly how long Mrs. Frog was planning to keep the name of Smyth. Elizabeth would wager it would not be very long.

* * *

The next morning found Elizabeth tired but feeling the best she had since the start of the Netherfield ball, back in her old life. Little Samuel was a joy… an absolute joy, and she was allowed to share in his care. Laura obviously had her part to do, and truth be told her part would become even more difficult if they brought Kitty's babe here; but Lizzy felt like she could do just about anything else. This was her first of what would certainly turn out to be many nights with a few hours of sleep and a lot of baby rocking, just as it should be.

Lizzy met Mrs. Frog and sat down for tea and some biscuits.

Mrs. Smyth asked, "Lizzy, do you know what day the 14th is?"

Lizzy thought about it for a moment and surmised, "That's Sunday, so I am assuming it's the day you will read the bans?"

"You always were too smart for your own good, little Lizzy."

Elizabeth jumped up from the chair and danced around Mrs. Frog, giving her kisses on the cheek just like a little girl. She was so happy, and so excited. She asked, "Can I call him Mr. Frog after this?"

Mrs. Frog had a good laugh at that.

"Elizabeth, you know that Mr. Wolcott and I plan to have a true marriage, or as true as it can be at our ages. Do you know what that means?"

Elizabeth really had no idea what Mrs. Frog was talking about, so she looked on her in puzzlement.

"It means, I plan to sleep in his room as is proper for a wife. You will have your own room."

Elizabeth turned bright read in embarrassment, and for once in her life could not think of a single thing to say… not… one… single… thing. She wasn't sure she even liked that idea, although she did have to admit that two women and two babies in one room was not a viable long-term option.

* * *

Lizzy was just mulling over this bit of disconcerting news, when she heard a knock on the door. When she answered it, she just stood dumbfounded for a moment, completely devoid of the power of speech. She could not say a single word to the unexpected visitor.

"Hello Lizzy, won't you let me in. We have had such a dreadful journey. You cannot believe how long it took to get here. We've been on the road for days and days. Don't you have something to eat? I'M STARVING! Oh, Mrs. Gray, you won't mind bringing that trunk in. What a tiny little place. Do you really expect me to live here?"

Elizabeth was almost entirely incapable of speech. All she could manage to croak out was, "Hello, Lydia."


	28. Shattered Expectations – June 11 1812

_A/N: It's all starting to come together, although I'm still not going to give you quite a linear timeline… OK, I admit it, I have the timeline but I'll still be jumping forward and back in time to fill in each character's storyline, but if your head hasn't exploded yet, you're good to go ;) I have to admit I created a Gordian knot out of this story and it took some time to unravel it, but it's all good now. It will all make perfect sense when I'm done (the_ _characters_ _won't make perfect sense, but the story will). Average chapter tonight as it took forever to put the pieces together [end whiney rant], but 29 will be a whopper. Wade_

* * *

The sound of shattering crystal woke Thomas Bennet from what could best be described as a stupor. He followed the sound to see his shattered port decanter smashed against his bookcase and scattered on the floor; and not just against his bookcase, but right in the middle of his favorite and most valuable section, completely soaking his Plutarch, his Herodotus, his Homer and even some of his Shakespeare. He was just in time to see his brandy decanter follow the port, and smash with an abominably loud crashing sound squarely in the middle of his second favorite section. He cried in dismay to see his precious books, the work of a lifetime covered in alcohol, but immediately sobered up just enough to start turning his head around to see who dared to invade his sanctuary with such vehemance.

Before he quite got his head turned around to face his aggressor, he heard a bellow that frightened him nearly to death. Being the husband of Fanny Bennet and father to Lydia, he was quite accustomed to screeching, and could ignore it at nearly any volume, a skill that had been quite useful this last six-month. This was however not a screech, but a bellow. Had it been a man's voice, he would have assumed fisticuffs or a challenge to a duel was on the way. Instead, it was a woman's voice, full of righteous fury that would not be denied.

" **Thomas Bennet, what have you done?** "

Mr. Bennet looked over at by far the most frightening woman he had ever seen. She stood in front of him shaking in what appeared to be cold blooded fury, hands on her hops, fists clenching spasmodically, veins standing out on her neck and literally shaking with the effort at containing it all. She seemed to be debating whether to talk to him or squash him like a bug. Her eyes bored into his and apparently didn't like what she saw, as she just shook her head in shame, or resignation, or who knew what she was feeling.

He thought he should try to gain the upper hand, as he should well be master in his own house.

"Who are you to talk to me like that in my own house?"

The woman calmed down just a trifle, looked at him critically and then looked around the room with the same critical eye. Ever since the Hills had left, the household had had a long profession of servants, each lasting no longer than a month or six weeks before they sought greener pastures elsewhere; and truth be told, just about any pasture was greener than Longbourn. His bookroom was not only the least critical place in the house, but the place where none of the latest batch of servants dared to tread, so it was basically a pigsty. How was it that he hadn't noticed that until he saw the place through her critical eye?

She walked over towards the fireplace. Mr. Bennet followed her eye as they searched for who knew what, possibly any other decanters to smash. He saw her eyeing his old Cambridge cricket bat, and wondered if her next move would be to bash him in the head with it, or maybe bend him over and thrash him like a schoolboy. With the look of fury in her eyes, he wouldn't doubt either and wasn't sure he could stop her should she decide to proceed.

As she reached the fire, she spoke without looking at him, apparently uninterested in his hangdog expression, and asked in almost a whisper, "Where's Lydia?"

His temper rose to the occasion, and once again feeling the upper hand shouted, "That is none of your concern! She's gone! And good riddance to her!"

She turned around as she reached the fire, and all semblance of fury gone from her countenance, for the moment, said once again with a clear, steady and unhurried voice, as if asking the weather or the state of the roads, "Where's Lydia?"

"She will not have that bastard in this house. Did you know she's carrying George Wickham's child! George Wickham! A man who's best act in life was exiting it to the amusement of his comrades. Or it may have been some other militiaman. There was more than one you know. I will not allow that bastard in this house. Not Ever!"

She replied with an icy calmness that was in truth more frightening than her fury, " _Where did you send her?_ "

"That's my concern, not yours."

She reached up to the mantelpiece, and quite calmly took down a candle and examined it critically. When she was satisfied, she took nearly a full minute to carefully light it from the dying fire. She waited for it to start burning well, apparently without a care in the world, examining the flame as if transfixed, and then the walked over to his bookshelf. She halted right to the center of the brandy soaked volumes, the work of a lifetime, and raised the candle to view the titles or possibly the quality of the volumes or the binding. She looked at the books critically, and said almost casually, "How much better would it have been had your daughters had a dowry instead of a father with a lot of rare and expensive books?"

Mr. Bennet was starting to reclaim his equilibrium, and practically screamed at her, " _This is my estate! I am master here, and I shall dispense the proceeds as I see fit._ "

The young woman looked at him again with a look of regret, and quite calmly moved the candle towards the brandy soaked books, as if to do nothing more than to read the titles, or see the detail of a tapestry. When the candle was two inches from the book, she continued.

"I am sorely tempted to burn this bookroom to the ground, and possibly Longbourn with it. I will ask you once again, and you will answer. Where is Lydia?"

Regaining his righteous fury, he spat out his answer, "I told you, I sent her away?"

" **Where? Where is she?** "

The fury was back, and the candle was a mere inch from the books. Her hand appeared to be shaking with the effort required to refrain from moving the last little bit. This was clearly a case of the moth and the flame, and she was flying close, very close indeed.

Mr. Bennet hung his head in defeat, and said honestly, "I don't know. Lizzy wants that bastard child, so let her have him, and good riddance to the pair of them. I sent Lydia to Lizzy. I sent her with Mrs. Quincy, who is apparently in Lizzy's confidence, though her own father is not. I told her she could come back, but not the bastard."

The woman sighed in exasperation and said, "So let me understand this fully! You sent your pregnant 15 year old daughter off on a public coach, without protection, to you know not where, with a midwife that's 60 if she's a day."

"Yes. I gave them sufficient funds to get to Lizzy comfortably, and after that, I'm done."

She sighed, in exasperation, looking critically at the candle, still an inch from the books, then over at the cricket bat as if deciding which tool to employ, for she clearly wanted to use one of them.

Finally, after an eternity of consideration, she blew out a long shuddering breath, shrugged her shoulders and stretched her neck. Clearly trying to calm herself, she said, "There are going to be some changes in this house starting now. From today, either you are barred from this room or I will burn it down right here and now. **Choose! Now!** "

Mr. Bennet gave in, perhaps happy that someone else was willing to take charge and said, "I will do as you say."

" _Very well_. There will be no more liquor in this house. Not a drop. Not Now. Not ever. You will start doing your duty from this day forward. Are we agreed?"

This was followed by an even more sheepish, "Yes"

"Your wife will come out of her bedroom if she's still capable of it, and you will help her become a useful member of this household again."

"Yes"

"You have a daughter upstairs that has not eaten or been from her room in more than a day. You will help her as a father should?"

"Yes"

The woman relented, just the tiniest bit, blew out the candle, and said, "Go to your bed. I expect you sober and ready to start the work of correcting this debacle at breakfast."

Mr. Bennet blew out a shuddering breath, and said, "All right Jane."


	29. May Day – May 1 1812

_A/N: Hey gang, sorry I just couldn't resist that last one. It was just too much fun, even though it's another time warp._

 _Based on the reviews, we're about 80:20 or 90:10 LoveJaneTheBadA** vs. HateJaneTheOutofCharacter, but mostly confused. That's OK. It's all by design. Aside from the timeline reviewers mostly ask:_

 _How did Happy Go Lucky Governess Jane end up as Jane the Bad A**?_

 _Why doesn't Jane know exactly where Lizzy is and vice versa? Why aren't Jane and Lizzy in constant communication?_

 _Where has Jane been these last like 10 chapters? No wonder she's so cranky, she's been neglected. And how and why exactly is she back in the hated Longbourn?_

 ** _LYDIA WITH LIZZY?_** _Explain up dude – you're nuts? How did she get there? Why doesn't her father know where she is? Why doesn't Jane know where she is? For that matter, refer to previous why doesn't Jane know where Lizzy is? Etc._

 _Why is Mr. Bennet a drunk… well, that one doesn't need much explanation. He's an alcoholic that fell down the slippery slope. Happens all the time and I don't plan to elaborate._

 _What about Mary? You gonna forget her yet again after all she's been through?_

 _OK, so Darcy has Netherfield, why isn't he there doing his thing yet?_

 _All I can do is beg for patience. I can tell you a couple of things (spoiler alert)._

 _If you're getting angst-fatigue, fear not. We're pretty much done with that. There may yet be some frustration on our character's parts, but nothing too terrible._

 _The timeline will all work itself out. It is confusing, but mostly-consistent. If you're into the details, this may help. Type the line below into your browser remove all the spaces and change the dot to . and slash to /._

 ** _wademan dot com slash cliffs_**

 _You'll get a simple little web page with a link to a timeline, and a link to the forum. The timeline is a living document so it may change, and the forum allows you discuss with other readers. It's fun but beware, both have spoilers and both are subject to change._

 _As always, I love to hear from everyone, but if you review as a guest, I can't answer you. I'm still happy to read your reviews, and I frequently adjust the story based on guest reviews so don't feel bad about it, but if you sign in I nearly always reply._

 _Now back to the long-neglected Jane. Wade_

* * *

Jane Bennet found the May Day celebration to be different from what she expected, and the afternoon's festivities surprising left just enough free moments for a bit of reflection. As Lizzy had so often reminded her, it was a day of celebration of spring going back many centuries. Nobody knew precisely where and how it started. They of course knew perfectly well it was an ancient Pagan tradition, but except for the obsessively pious, nearly everyone disregarded its origins and enjoyed the festivities. The spring planting was in the ground so the farm workers were given the holiday. Even though the planting did not affect their work, the miners also took the day off to join the celebrations.

Jane's employers, the Windham's, agreed readily enough that it was a holiday and should be celebrated appropriately by the governess and the other staff. The former would take the children to the festivities, and the latter would make a feast for the masters. Apparently, the entire concept of a holiday as a day of _not_ working was entirely lost on them. Jane didn't really mind because after only 3 1/2 months, she believed she loved her charges as much as she might one day love her own children, including the one she was to adopt from her sister. She still thought Lizzy's plan was a bit mad, but after she saw how easy it was to love someone once you became responsible for them; she had no real qualms about it. The experience of birth may change Kitty and make her fit to be a mother, and Jane would get on with her life, or she might remain selfish and Jane would follow Lizzy's plan. She had no concerns about either outcome. Lizzy would find a way for them to live, and all would be well. Now that Jane understood that she was capable of hard work, she felt confident she could do whatever was necessary.

As the children danced around the maypole, and joined their friends for races, and other games, Jane felt like she didn't have to keep her eye on them every single minute, which gave her time for reflection.

Jane Bennet loved the place she had landed by chance. She still didn't know how Lizzy secured a position so quickly. She at first had suspected her Uncle Gardiner had a hand in the plot. Jane would become more concerned with the details of life later, but when she left Longbourn, she just wanted to go. Anywhere that was not Longbourn would do. She found the village of Charlestown in Cornwall much to her liking. She couldn't get very much farther from her disgraced family without leaving England altogether, and she thought 300 miles might be just sufficient. The vagaries of chance had deposited her here, but she quite loved the town. It was almost as different from Meryton as it was possible to be while remaining on English soil. She had been surprised at how fast stagecoaches traveled, and she made the trip in just over a week, which would have astounded her before she had the experience.

The principle industry here was mining, and the evidence of it was all about. There were tailings piles dotted all over the countryside, and the sound of machinery was constant, although nothing like it must be out closer to the mines. This was a shipping port, not an actual mine.

Jane's would have laughed until she cried, had she known that the ever-formidable Mr. Darcy was at that very moment convincing a woodcutter, Mr. Savage, to loan him his clothes so he could travel about Kent unimpeded while he tried to talk to Jane's sister. Jane would have had a terrible time deciding which was more ridiculous; Mr. Darcy dressing as a woodcutter; Mr. Darcy thinking that would be enough to keep him from being noticed in Hunsford; or Mr. Darcy hunting her sister like a hound. It would be some time before Jane knew any of this story though, so she had quite enough of her own thoughts to deal with.

Jane and Lizzy had agreed to write back and forth, but not overly much as every penny saved might be important later. Jane was however, feeling quite concerned enough at this point that she planned to pen a letter to Lizzy in Kent this very evening. Something was _not_ right in the Windham household, and like many a governess before her, Jane felt vulnerable.

Mr. Windham was, it seemed in the copper business, and his estate while not the grandest was grand enough to put him in the moderately upper circles in this small town. Jane had no idea how he fared in the greater society of the area, or whether he frequented town or not. Mr. Windham should well have been a happy, contented and comfortable man, but he was not. Once she saw more of the couple, she determined that he seemed to despise his wife, or was at best indifferent to her, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Neither of the parents paid the slightest attention to the children, so long as Jane kept them quiet, and presented them for inspection every few days.

Mr. Windham also seemed to have some _urgent business_ every Saturday night, and frequently during the weeknights as well. Jane had no idea what he did during these excursions, except that he often came back to the estate singing loudly and off key, whilst crashing into things and breaking them.

That morning, coincidentally at just about the time that Mr. Darcy made his offer of support to the woman Jane still didn't know as Mrs. Collins, Jane had a disturbing conversation with the parlor maid, Lucy.

"Miss Gardiner, have you heard the rumors about the master?"

"I try not to listen to gossip, Lucy."

Jane looked at the crestfallen look on the young girl, and decided that perhaps forewarned was forearmed, and just a tiny little bit of gossip couldn't hurt. The girl really did not deserve her censure. She looked up to Jane, so she relented, and said, "My apologies, Lucy. Please continue."

Lucy perked up and said, "I've heard from the cook, and she had it from a maid at the Morgan's, that Mr. Windham accosted a maid during his visit there last week. It's said it's not the first time."

Jane looked thoughtfully at Lucy. She wanted to deny the accusation. She wanted to quash any ugly third hand rumors. She wanted to chastise Lucy for her impertinence… but she did not. Instead, she glanced over and saw that her charges were in no more trouble than usual, and gave the matter some real thought. She hadn't had that much to do with Mr. Windham, but what time she did have, lent weight to Lucy's accusations. He had a habit of looking over any woman he met as he might a horse he was thinking of buying, as if they were there for nothing but his amusement. Even though she had not been exposed to such men in her previous life, she was not naïve enough to believe they did not exist, nor was she silly enough to be unaware of what frequently happened to female servants and governesses. If a man did decide to take advantage of the help, there was little recourse.

"Lucy, I would like to tell you not to spread such rumors. If the master hears of your discussing his gossip, or worse yet the mistress, they may well discharge you without reference; and then where would you be? It's good that you told me, but please don't let it go any farther."

Lucy looked sufficiently frightened by that prospect that Jane thought she wouldn't endanger herself further, but that wasn't far enough.

"Lucy, if the rumors are true, we need to try to protect ourselves. If there is any real danger, and I stress the term if, then it would seem to be mostly at night. I think we may want to start barring our doors. Do you have your own room?"

"No, ma'am. I share with Mary."

"That's good. I think the housekeeper is safe from the man, so we need not concern ourselves with her, as she's quite formidable enough to take care of herself, I'd say the same for cook. You and the other maids are all close together in the attics, so you're probably safe enough at night. Does your door have a lock?"

"No"

"Find a way to bar it. Place a chair or dresser against it when you go to bed. This begins to sound like we are being hysterical, but something about the man has me worried. Just make sure no notice of your activities escapes, as that would land us all in trouble."

"Yes, ma'am"

Jane thought a bit more, and asked, "Do any of the other servants sleep alone?"

Lucy looked thoughtful, and answered, "Well, I know you are not a servant Miss Gardiner, but you are uncommonly pretty and you do sleep alone. If I may be so bold, it might be you who needs to bar her door."

Jane agreed, and added, "Talk with the others _quietly_. If you can spend more time together and less time alone, it might be wise."

Lucy looked up to the governess who seemed quite sensible, and agreed to do her bidding.

Jane decided that she would bar her door with a chair, just in case. There was something not quite right about this household, but she had no way to leave it, nor any indication that the next would be any better. She only had to endure a few more months before she left to join Lizzy, so she would persevere.

She would certainly write to Lizzy in Kent this very day though. Why would a man work though an agent or relative to hire a governess from 300 miles away, unless his local reputation was sufficiently bad to dissuade the locals from the post? Jane had been much too busy to make friends in the town, but for the first time in her life, Jane Bennet wished she had inherited just a tiny bit of her mother's penchant for gossip. She might have learned something useful sooner, though with her contract set for six months, she was not sure what she would have been able to do differently.


	30. Oh Fortuna! – Part I – May 15 1812

_A/N: Hey gang, I promised I would put the timeline together. This is the first part of a long chapter, all happening on the same day in May. Enjoy._

* * *

Sometimes in life, things happen that seem to be inspired by the gods. The Spanish called it _destino_. Elizabeth Bennet would have happily expounded on the Greek goddess _Tyche_ , or perhaps on another day she might be in favor of the Roman's _Fortuna._ The Japanese, not to be outdone, dedicated a full seven gods to the idea. Her father, before he fell to his own indolence and caprice may have even mentioned the Etruscan Goddess _Veltha._ The English of course, not to be beaten on vocabulary also had _fate_ , _destiny, fortune, providence, luck_ and _lot_.

All of these ideas have an air of mystery about them, as if somehow the events of our lives were following some preset course, or controlled by some higher, but not necessarily benevolent being. Others would just as happily assert it was all just random chance, or free will, or the intersection of the two. Perhaps all these guesses were right… or none. Either way, fortune had a way of occasionally pulling many threads together unbeknownst to the participants, much like a tapestry, sometimes even on the very same day.

Sometimes fortune smiles; sometimes it frowns; and sometimes it does one while pretending to the other. It is a rather capricious goddess after all. Humans would never know, nor should they; but something must have been in the air that summer. In fact, Friday, May 15, 1812 would later appear to be some type of magical day when the world of the Bennet sisters shook just a bit on its foundations. Perhaps Fortuna was clearing her throat before acting more precipitously, or perhaps it was all just chance after all. For many, that day was indeed full of luck or fortune, but as it turns out, there are two kinds of luck.

For example, Fortuna definitely frowned on George Wickham on that clear Friday afternoon. In fact, Fortuna was quite finished with the man. Mr. Wickham had planned _just one more scheme_ to make his fortune for another six-month or twelve-month. What he proposed seemed no better nor worse than things he had tried and succeeded with before; or at worst tried, and escaped with someone else picking up the broken pieces. Some might say that Fortuna smiled on him for allowing him such a long run before being called to account, but only those not present for the final indignity of his death could consider anything lucky about George Wickham.

On this particular day, nobody outside of Longbourn actually knew what happened, and it would take a day or so for his life to reach his inevitable conclusion, but for George Wickham, luck and fortune had crashed headlong into destiny, in the form of _just_ one father too many, and it was not to his benefit in the least.

Yet another conversation happened at almost the same time, between two men of quite different character and temperament. Charles Bingley was a shallow man, not given to deep thought or reflection. Whatever he decided to do was done in five minutes time, and as with any bottom crawling fish in a small pond, he was rather proud of his ability to navigate the mud without becoming sullied.

Fitzwilliam Darcy on the other hand was a _very rational_ man. He was calm, collected and analytical. He had been master of a great estate at a very early age, and had hundreds under his care. This made him a cautions man who always evaluated every situation, analyzed it carefully and made the best and most rational decision possible. He was not bound to flights of fancy. He did not make snap decisions. He did not do irrational things. He did not allow Fortuna to run his life. He was master, and he controlled his own fate.

Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy did not do foolish things. It was the most natural thing in the world for the master of the biggest estate in Derbyshire to lease an unimportant little neglected estate in a forgotten and somewhat disgraced town in the county of Hertfordshire, four days hard ride from his own estate. Perfectly Rational!

 _It is not the object of this chapter to give a description of the fates of these three very different men on this fine day, nor of any of the remarkable events_ that lead to their intersection with Tyche, for all have been adequately described, previously; but to set the stage. The tableau if you will that will allow us to focus on the others that fortune was weaving into her web on this fine day.

* * *

" **I did it! I did it! I did it!** "

The shout started a both a coughing fit and a monumental cheer. The first exclamation and coughing fit were the province of young Madeline Osborne, who for the first time in nearly six months, stood on her own two feet for a full count of five.

The cheers and shouts were first from the Little Pride that shared her life with her. Though of more dignity and lower volume, Mr. Darcy's physician joined in as best he could in such a madhouse. Soon, every woman in the boarding house, and soon everyone walking by on the street was aware of the monumental accomplishment, and they had no doubt everyone in Hunsford would within the hour.

"Well done, Madeline!"

"I can hardly believe it!"

"You'll be right as rain before you know it!"

"You're a plucky little thing. Well done!"

The women all crowded around the young girl offering congratulations and felicitations aplenty, with hardly a breath between. Much to the chagrin of her friends, the main remedy the girl needed was to _stop_ following the advice of the many apothecaries and doctors. No more concoctions, bleeding, leeches, humors, shut up rooms, wide open windows, steam, freezing or other remedies. Mr. Darcy's physician determined that in a room full of laundresses, her bedding and nightclothes were perfectly clean and orderly, and had been kept so right from the beginning; thus saving him the first big argument he usually had in most cases. The friends had also regularly bathed her, and on the advice of an aging midwife had taken turns reading to her, talking to her, and massaging her limbs as she lay there.

Mr. Darcy's physician made sure to the best of his ability that she did not have any real disease, and that she was being fed, and cleaned. He took a firm hand in what she ate; and her natural resiliency started reasserting itself. Naturally, he would have taken stronger measures should they have been necessary, but the young girl's primary problem was an overabundance of bad medical advice. The old doctor just shook his head at the absurdity of it. The girl would have been better off with a shaman than with some of the medical men about here, but in truth he could not blame any of the women. They had done their very best and were disappointed by others.

Little Lion joined in the festivities for some time, and then wandered outside onto the porch pensively. Of everything she had ever done in her life, Madeline's recovery would have to count as the high point, and she had a mud puddle to thank for it. Life was absurdly wonderful sometimes. She knew she would send her gracious thanks to Mr. Darcy for all he had done, and well deserved it was.

Mary now had to think about _how_ the five of them were going to live. They could obviously all survive with the laundry work they had, since they had already been doing so for a six-month, but it wasn't really a five person business. They already did all the laundry within a reasonable distance, so Mary would really have to start thinking about something else she could do to bring in coin. She was clearly the best educated of the lot. It turned out that Madeline could read, and she might be a help with the entertainments, but the rest of her education was very basic and not likely to be helpful. She had no intention of leaving her pride, but they would need to expand their offerings if they were to live well.

As Mary was pondering this problem, she heard something she had hoped to never hear again.

"Hello, Mary"

Mary startled a bit. Apparently her thoughts had been muddled enough to let another woman sneak up on her, and she replies as calmly as she could.

"Hello, Charlotte"

Mary turned to face her adversary with worry. She had been avoiding Charlotte Lucas… no, Collins for so long she almost convinced herself this inevitable meeting would never take place.

Charlotte actually looked good in her matron's cap, much to Mary's surprise. She looked, if not happy, at least content.

"Or, should I say, Hello Mrs. Collins"

Charlotte looked at her appraisingly, glanced at the boarding house, which may have an abundance of prying ears, and said, "Shall we walk?"

Mary silently agreed and started down the lane.

Once they were out of earshot of any listeners, Charlotte said, "I remember holding you in my arms as a babe, Mary, right after you were born. I remember your steady friendship over many years. I remember all the hours you spent at my father's house, trying to fit into the world your sisters created. I remember that you secured my current advantageous situation with an outburst of gigantic proportions, with not a word of it untrue. You need not fear me, _Miss Little_. I will keep your secret until such a time as you give me leave to discuss it; and frankly, I don't think my husband would recognize you if I sat you next to him at the dinner table. You know he only had eyes for Jane and Lizzy in Herefordshire. Your confidence is safe in my hands."

Mary blew out a sigh of relief. She had been avoiding this conversation for months, for no good reason except fear, and like many such possibly unpleasant chores, it wasn't quite so bad once you just got on with it.

With such raw feelings, and so many trivial and inconsequential things available to talk about, the two women walked to the edge of the village, and actually out into the lanes of Rosings, just trying to establish the bonds of women, since the bonds of girlhood had been shattered months ago. Now they were to be neighbors, and while unlikely to be the most intimate of neighbors, they were not to be strangers either.

After a time for acclimatization, Charlotte decided to move back to perhaps more controversial topics. By mutual unspoken agreement, they decided that the name Mary was not to be used any more, regardless of the presence or lack of listening ears. Mary wasn't sure she would even recognize the name anymore anyway. She truly thought of Mary Bennet as another person, lost long ago as if through death.

"Miss Little, I see you've had quite an effect on our Mr. Darcy... Twice"

Mary looked a bit bewildered and asked, "Twice".

Charlotte looked at her friend, and wondered how much to tell her. Mary clearly had no idea of how precipitous the changes in Longbourn had been after her outburst at the ball. She would learn all the particulars of her family sooner or later, but there was no compelling reason she had to know them right now, today, from her oldest friend in the world.

"I can't tell you all, but believe me when I tell you; your outburst in Herefordshire had a profound effect on him. I believe he has actually been looking for you for some time to apologize."

Mary looked at Charlotte in some confusion. A month ago, the idea of Mr. Darcy apologizing would have been nearly unthinkable to her, but she was gradually learning to give up her old prejudices. He had been nothing but amiable in the mud puddle incident and nothing but a gentleman in every particular. He had even saved a friend's life, whom she didn't even know was a friend at the time. She had thought of Madeline as a duty, but she had long since elevated herself to take her rightful place as one of the Little Pride. She was a worthy woman, who had suffered considerably, and Mary was proud to call her a friend now. Mr. Darcy had saved her life, just because he could. He couldn't save everyone in the world, but he had saved her friend just because she asked it of him.

"Mr. Darcy is owed the deepest debt of gratitude for what he did for Madeline, and truth be told, other than one only mildly unkind statement at Netherfield, I don't actually really have anything to chastise him for."

"Will you thank him properly, Miss Little?"

Mary thought about it and said, "He won't be back for some time, but since we've shared a roll in the mud, I suppose propriety could stand for him to receive one letter from me. I will send it back with the doctor when he returns to town. I owe Mr. Darcy a great deal."

Charlotte looked at her critically, and said, "And who will thank him? Miss Little Lion or Miss Mary Bennet? I know who he would rather hear from."

Mary thought about it for a moment, and asked, "Would he also keep his own council, should I request it."

Charlotte thought she actually knew quite a bit about Fitzwilliam Darcy now, and she said, "To the grave. You need not fear Mr. Darcy."

Mary blew out a breath, and said, "Very well, Mary Bennet it is."

Charlotte was really quite satisfied with her day's work, but thought she may as well get the rest of the unpleasant task over with.

"Miss Lion. There have been many… changes… many… difficulties… much…"

At that point, she just ran out of words, and said simply, "Nothing is as you left it in Herefordshire. Do you wish to know what has changed?"

Mary looked at her, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Is any of it my fault or my responsibility?"

Charlotte thought for just a moment and said, "No, not really… I believe not. Your altercation was only the first, and dare I say the smallest of the problems plaguing your family."

Mary did not like the sound of that, so she asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, given such knowledge?"

Charlotte thought about what she had heard about the goings on at Longbourn, entirely without satisfaction, and answered honestly, "I don't believe so. Had yours been the only transgression, it would loom heavily but it has been quite forgotten. Should you wish to reconcile with your family, I believe Lizzy and Jane would welcome you with open arms. The rest of the family, maybe not."

Mary wasn't sure if she was happy to have been forgotten so easily, or miserable, but it was really of no matter. She was no longer a woman who was made for unhappiness, so she shook it off and replied, "Are Lizzy and Jane at Longbourn?"

"No, like you they have left. I know not where they are. Mr. Darcy has been searching for them for months?"

"Mr. Darcy, whatever for?"

Charlotte looked at her carefully, and said, "I keep his confidence as well."

This was news to Mary, but nothing she could do anything about, and being quite content with her situation, she finally answered, "Then, no, I do not need to know the particulars. Not at this time."

Mary thought a bit more, and then said, "Should you encounter either of my elder sisters, you have leave to tell them where I am, but nobody else."

"Will you write to Mr. Darcy then?"

"Yes, but I'll have to get parchment and quill. We don't keep any at the boarding house. The doctor is to return to town in about a fortnight, so I will send it with him."

Charlotte, happy to be of service said, "Come with me to the parsonage. My husband is at Rosings, so it is safe enough and we can have tea."

"I thank you, and I also thank you for keeping my secret."


	31. Oh Fortuna! – Part II – May 15 1812

_A/N: Sorry for the posting snafu yesterday. The reason was very technical. I posted 2 chapters and decided I didn't like them, so here is my rewrite of the first. Hope you like it._

 _This is the second of three chapters to round out May 15. I promise, it won't take 3 chapters for every day ;)_

* * *

Some distance away, the former Elizabeth Gardiner, now restored to her given name, sat down to have what she thought may be a very difficult conversation with her new benefactor.

"Mr. Wolcott, I'm beyond grateful that you have agreed to take me in, tattered reputation and all, but I'm ashamed to admit that I have one more problem I must tell you about immediately. It may be just one too many, and if so I need to know now before I abuse your hospitality any further."

Mr. Wolcott looked at her skeptically, wondering just how bad the problem could possibly be.

"Go on, Miss Bennet. I'm awash with curiosity."

Elizabeth gathered her courage and continued, "I'm afraid I don't have only one sister, sir. I actually have four. We've appraised you of the situation with my sister Lydia and her expected babe."

Mr. Wolcott encouraged her with, "Oh, we've already agreed another babe in this house will not overly tax us."

"I'm afraid we now come to the crux of the problem sir. You see, I have another elder sister who is the best person I know. I also have an additional younger sister who is also increasing. My elder sister Jane is to take her babe, as I'm doing for Lydia. Both of the younger sisters are the most selfish and ignorant creatures you can imagine, but they do carry Bennets, and Jane and I cannot just leave them to their fate."

Mr. Wolcott looked at her appraisingly and asked for some clarification.

"So there are two disgraced sisters who will have children; who without your intervention would most likely live a life of neglect and disgrace, through no fault of their own."

Elizabeth agreed that was the case.

"And you have two honorable, although possibly mad, sisters who are willing to take on the burdens these sisters have caused, just because you feel you must?"

"Yes, sir"

Mr. Wolcott chuckled a bit and asked, "And do you plan to inflict the younger sisters on this household?"

Elizabeth gasped her displeasure at the very idea, and said, "No sir! I do not! I won't inflict them on myself, let alone someone else."

"So tell me Miss Bennet, when are you going to get to the terrible problem you are planning to inflict on me?"

Elizabeth looked puzzled and said, "That was it, sir."

She thought that Mr. Wolcott may just be playing with her. He had the air of amusement that her father once had, an intelligent assessment of life's vagaries, but without the cynical bent her father had developed over the years."

Mr. Wolcott decided to quite toying with her, and replied, "We have no issue then Miss Bennet. I presume your elder sister is willing to work hard with us in our book trade?"

"Of course. She'll be thrilled on the situation we've landed in. She will certainly delight in our good fortune, and she will work as hard as the rest of us."

Mr. Wolcott looked at her seriously and gave her a more complete answer.

"Miss Bennet, do you realize what a stroke of _good fortune_ it is for me to have you here?"

Elizabeth looked puzzled. It had been so long since she had thought of anything to do with the Bennets fortunate, that the concept was almost foreign to her; nearly unthinkable. Something that could not quite be understood.

" _Good_ fortune, sir?"

"Yes, good fortune! The goddess is most serenely smiling on us. I spent my life building this trade to hand over to my son, and he was a bright and energetic boy, curious and amiable. He could sell a book to anyone, and was well on his way to understanding the entire business. We had the perfect situation and Providence took him away from me, leaving his child without a father, me without an heir, and a daughter in law that I am now responsible for with nobody to help with a coming grandchild."

Elizabeth readily agreed that was a deplorable situation, although she had been so happy with the shop she had never taken the time to consider Mr. Wolcott's problems. She judged that she had a lot to learn about paying attention to the people around her, and now was a good time to start.

Mr. Wolcott continued, "And now, you just fall from the sky. A pretty lady who is educated and well-read, and no doubt able to carry on the business? And you're taken my distraught daughter in law and treated her like a sister just because that's your nature as far as I can tell? And you are willing to work hard to support this household?"

Elizabeth admitted that was all true and she had not thought about it that way before.

Mr. Wolcott continued, "So you're worried that you'll bring one more amiable and hardworking sister to share our burdens, and you're concerned just because I must suffer a house full of grandchildren? How could you possibly find anything to reprove in that scheme, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth smiled at the man in real affection. It seemed that she owed much more to Mrs. Frog than she realized, and she had a lot to learn yet.

Mr. Wolcott continues, "You do realize it will be hard Miss Bennet? Nothing about what we're doing will be easy, but it will be honorable, and it will end well I believe."

Elizabeth said, "Thank you Mr. Wolcott, I believe it will."

As she got up to leave, Mr. Wolcott had one more item of curiosity to satisfy.

"You mentioned one elder sister and two younger. Unless I miss my count, there should be one more. Where is she?"

Elizabeth didn't quite feel up to the task of telling Mary's story just yet, so she said, "She is missing sir. She had an incident of some embarrassment, but no real dishonor, but she left and has not been heard of for half a year. I fear for her."

"Do you look forward to possibly reuniting with her?"

Elizabeth said, "With all my heart sir. I do miss Mary. I never know how much I would until she was gone."

"That's the way of life Miss Bennet. We all do that."

"Yes. I believe I must write to Jane this instant."

"That seems advisable."

* * *

Elizabeth sat down at the small writing desk in the room she shared with Laura to urgently write to Jane. In the press of leaving Kent, and with her supreme discomposure at the visit from Charlotte with Mr. Darcy's letter, she had not sent Jane anything at all since leaving Kent. Jane wasn't expecting a letter for at least a few weeks anyway, and Elizabeth reasoned (or perhaps rationalized or procrastinated) that she could wait a couple of days to write once she had the proper direction, and some indication that she was closer to finding a place in the world for both sisters. It would serve no purpose to make Jane fret over their position if it wasn't satisfactory. Jane's reports of her work in Cornwall were all good, so Elizabeth wasn't at all worried by the delay. In fact, she congratulated herself on saving Jane the vexation of worrying about their situation before it was well settled, and happy that she could report complete success.

Now that everything was set to everyone's satisfaction; she sat down and wrote Jane a long letter detailing exactly where they had landed, what situation she had found, and inviting Jane to finish her labors with the Windham family as quickly as possible. In fact, now that her situation was so well settled, she even went so far as to encourage Jane to leave early if it could be arranged. Elizabeth felt certain that the loss of income wouldn't cripple them, and she so wanted to see her Jane, that they might share the comforts of their good situation. She also reasoned that Jane could get a start on learning the book trade. The sooner both sisters got on with it, the better.

With that in mind, she wrote quite a long letter, two pages crossed, and put it in the post for delivery to Cornwall. She was now farther away than she had been in Kent, so she didn't expect a reply before the end of the month at the very best, and it still seemed unlikely she would have her sister present before their originally planned date. They would very soon need to plan the details of their reunion, and of course she would have to start planning how to get back in contact with her increasing sisters to complete her task. She would of course respect the wishes of the actual mothers, but she doubted very much that either Kitty or Lydia would want to take on the burdens of motherhood, and as to her parents, she doubted either of them would even notice one way or the other.

Elizabeth finished her lengthy letter, sanded and sealed it carefully with wax and her stamp, and planned to walk out to post it in a bit. She couldn't wait to hear back from Jane.

Just as she finished, Laura came into the room they shared jumping up and down with excitement. Well, truth be told with a babe coming within weeks it wasn't quite so much of a _jump_ , but her excitement was palpable.

"Lizzy, Father just told me the wonderful news. I'm so happy."

Elizabeth smiled at one less worry.

"You don't think we're being intrusive?"

Laura snorted much like kitty did from time to time and said, "I swear Lizzy Bennet, you say the oddest things! Of course not! I always wanted a sibling and now I shall have two sisters. I couldn't be happier."

Elizabeth, who had told Laura part of her story but not all replied, "I have four sisters. They are not all as worthy as Jane."

Laura shuffled over to her bed to sit down and continued thoughtfully, "My mother died when I was quite young and my father never remarried. I was very lonely as a child."

Elizabeth left the small writing desk to join her on the bed.

Laura patted her growing child and confessed, "I was afraid this one might have the same fate. Now he will have aunts and cousins aplenty, and Father assures me that you will be very important to our living. No Lizzy, I am not in the least bit unhappy with this arrangement."

Elizabeth reached her hand tentatively toward Laura's belly, and Laura laughed again and grabbed her hand to drag it the rest of the way so Elizabeth would have a chance to feel the child, saying, "You should be less timid if you want to be a mother, Miss Elizabeth."

The two sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

Laura asked quietly, "Do you worry about the fate of these children we will be raising alone?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment and said, "No, I am not. I don't believe all of us will be alone forever. Though I've seen little evidence of it myself, I do believe there are worthy men out there for each of us. It will take a strong man, but I believe such must exist."

Laura said, "Yes, but it does make me feel so much safer to know I will have you and Jane with me. I've not even met her, and I feel as if I already know here."

Elizabeth thought a few moments, and said, "I think for us Laura, there must be no half measures. You are as important to me as any of my sisters, and this child you are carrying will be as important to me as any bond of blood could make. I think we have found our place in the world, and though we may all marry, or leave to another living or life; we will always have this bond."

Both women sat in silent contemplation, thinking they had been quite fortunate to land in this position of mutual benefit."

Laura asked somewhat sheepishly, "Elizabeth, would it be asking too much for you to stand as godmother for this child?"

With tears forming in her eyes, Elizabeth answered, "It would be the greatest privilege of my life."


	32. Chapter 31 Supplement (Elizabeth)

_A/N: This is actually the end of chapter 31 (Lizzy on May 15). When I rewrote that chapter, I left out a few important parts, so here you go. Still May 15, a few hours after Lizzy's conversation with Laura. Sorry for the confusion, but hey – it's Fan Fiction. Going to be a few bumps. I've also been a little bit slow about updating because of urgent business in town, but we'll finish off the 15_ _th_ _today. Wade_

* * *

Later that night, the nascent family sat down to a dinner of beef and potatoes, with no secrets left between them. There was some discussion about the book trade, although it was desultory at best since everyone mostly wanted to talk about all the little ones that would soon be running about underfoot. Finally, Mrs. Smyth started the discussion proper.

"Elizabeth, we never talked about how you are keeping track of your sisters. I hope your plan isn't to just have them stumble on our doorstep with a baby in hand when the time comes?"

Elizabeth had to laugh at that, and answered, "No, Mrs. Frog. I have other arrangements. I will need to return to Longbourn when the time comes.", Then she added somewhat sadly, "I'm not looking forward to it."

"And how will you know when the time comes?"

Elizabeth had eventually come up with a passably good plan, although it would have been much better if she thought of it sooner. But there was no use worrying about that particular spilt milk now. What's done was done.

"I wrote to a local midwife and asked her to keep an eye on both girls. She will visit them every fortnight and let me know how they're doing, and when I need to go back."

She said the last with a bit of a shudder, as she wasn't at all sure she wanted to go back to Longbourn.

"Does she have your direction here?"

"I first wrote her about a se'nnight before we left Kent, but have not received a reply. I wasn't expecting us to leave quite so soon, and did not check with you, much to my chagrin. I wrote her to update the direction as soon as we arrived, even before writing to Jane. She may well have written to me in Kent already, but she will receive my updated note and I will expect her reply within the fortnight."

Mrs. Frog asked somewhat sternly, "Why didn't you do this sooner?"

Elizabeth thought that honesty was probably best.

"I was procrastinating, I'm afraid. I didn't see a lot of point in following the story for an entire seven or eight months. I thought five or six would be entirely enough for my liking. I'm also paying the midwife a small stipend for the service, and I didn't want to start spending before it was necessary."

"So you don't have any idea how the girls are actually doing?"

"Not really, but I will soon enough."

Mrs. Smyth wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but it would have to do.

Mr. Wolcott brought up one more delicate matter.

"Miss Bennet, do you think you might approve of a small deception. You may want to consider going by the name Mrs. Bennet. With the number of widows that French madman is creating, nobody would think twice about it."

Elizabeth thought the idea worth considering, and asked Mrs. Frog for her opinion.

Mrs. Smyth thought a bit more and said, "The idea has merit, but you could just as easily be her aunt and say the mother was lost. If you wanted to go by Mrs. Bennet, you would have to leave before the neighbors could understand that it's not your child. It will be fairly obvious you haven't been carrying a child all this time."

With a little more discussion, they all decided that the course of truth was probably for best, and she would remain Miss Bennet. She wouldn't be the first aunt in the world that was known as "Mama".

Laura asked, "What about your sister Jane? He wrote her this morning, but when was the last time you wrote?"

Elizabeth replied, "She is in Cornwall, 300 miles from London. It costs more than half a day's wages to receive a letter, so we didn't plan to write very often. By all accounts things are going well there, so I wrote to her about a se'nnight before we left Kent, and have been waiting to establish our situation before writing to her again. She will be very pleased with what she learns."

"How long will the post take to reach her?"

"Between a se'nnight and a fortnight, I imagine. I understand all mail goes through London, and we're much farther than we were in Kent. I believe she will have it by the end of the month."

Mrs. Smyth was curious and asked, "Why so far away?"

Elizabeth sighed and said, "It was a position we could get without reference and for only six months. Jane spent nearly a fortnight getting there, but the pay is generous, so when we stumbled on the position through a contact with my uncle, we just took it."

"So she will be joining us in August?"

"We will have to go to Hertfordshire in August for obvious reasons, but I hope to have her established here with us by the end of September."

Mr. Wolcott said what everyone was thinking, "We will look forward to it."


	33. Oh Fortuna! – Part III – May 15 1812

_A/N: With this chapter, all the little duckies are on the same timeline, although there have already been some exposition of future events. All the threads are there, so we'll see if I can make a fine tapestry out of them or a tangled knot. For those of you missing your Jane fix, this should settle you down for a bit, and there is more Jane in the next few chapters._

* * *

The fortnight leading up to the 15th of May turned out _much_ less to Jane Bennet's satisfaction than the previous months had been. If she were a woman given to flights of fancy, she would have been certain that Tyche as  not her particular friend right at the moment. She had thought her trials over when she found herself so profitably engaged at the bottom of her own personal cliff, but that did not appear to be the case anymore.

Jane Bennet was not of a suspicious nature, but she found that once her conversation with Lucy had occurred, there was much in the house to disapprove of, and she was beginning to think that had always been the case but she had just not noticed.

She did find a budding friendship with Lucy after May Day, with both young women sitting down to tea and a chat when they could. Jane was coming to realize that governesses were frequently in an odd position. They were neither family nor servant, and in many households, they were not truly accepted by either. They dined with the family, so they missed out in most of the servants' talk, and just about everything else that went on downstairs. However, they were never truly a part of the family either, so they existed between the two. She discussed the matter with Lucy as they sat down to tea that Friday morning.

"Lucy, do you believe things are changing in the household very much, or perhaps I'm just now noticing what's always been there?"

Lucy thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I believe things are getting worse, but I don't know why."

Jane reflected that was obviously not to either of the women's likings. She was beginning to love the children dearly, which was probably not an appropriate attitude for a governess that would be gone in a few months; but she had very little control over her heart. She would enjoy her time with them, and then go to her other life with fond memories, and perhaps leave just a piece of her heart her in Cornwall.

With closer observation and more attention to the household, instead of just seeing their mother as a mostly dull and uninteresting woman, she noticed that the mistress of the house had a nasty streak that Jane never noticed when she was so very busy before. As Jane went about her daily tasks, she would frequently hear snippets of what might be called conversation, except they were shrill and one-sided.

"Lucy, what are you about. This tea is much too hot."

"Abagail, not that china, the other? Must I tell you everything?"

"Margaret, is the best you can possibly do on polishing the silver?"

These were only snatches of conversation, but repeated nearly every day in one form or another. Nothing ever pleased the lady, no matter how carefully done, or how polite and deferential the servant was. Every criticism was made with a tone of voice that both reminded Jane of Caroline Bingley, and made her glad that she was usually outside of the woman's attention.

Quite _why_ she was beyond Mrs. Windham's notice most of the time was a mystery, until she noticed that the woman's own children seemed to make her uncomfortable. The children were brought out for _inspection_ every Saturday night, and Mrs. Windham always had something to criticize.

"Amelia, do not fidget like that. A young lady must not fidget. You will be mistress of a house one day and must act with decorum at all times."

Jane had a difficult time not giggling with that one, but she schooled her expression suitably before it was noticed.

"Martin, is that all you've accomplished on your sums. You must apply yourself more diligently. I do not want to be embarrassed when you go to Eton next year."

Something like this happened every Saturday night without fail. Amelia was either too fidgety or too morose, or in the wrong dress, or her braids were too tight or too loose. Mathew and Martin were similarly unacceptable to the _lady_. The lessons were not recited correctly, or the sums were not of sufficient speed, or perhaps the polish on their shoes did not meet muster, or their deportment was insufficient in some way.

Jane bore all of this with the best grace she could, because she eventually learned that Mrs. Windham would find _something_ to criticize, regardless of what Jane or the children said or did. Like many before her, she eventually learned to simply leave a few minor things to be found, as the mother would look until she found something. Placing different ribbons on each side of her Amelia's head and deliberately scuffing the boys' shoes would sometimes do the trick. After a few minutes of criticism, the children would be shuffled off to bed, with the entire experience to be repeated with minor differences a se'nnight later, when Jane would think of another minor offense to set them up for. Jane was left mostly alone during the interim, because children should be seen and not heard; or more likely not even seen. Jane and the children had their own time and their own ways, and neither particularly regretted any lack of maternal attention.

Mr. Windham never paid the children any attention whatsoever. He would occasionally pass Martin in the hall and mention that he was getting taller, or that his coat was looking very fine, or that he would soon be off to school and then Oxford to join the world of men; but he was rarely even looking at the boy as he spoke. It was as if his valet gave him a script to perform, and he just went through the lines by rote. That was of course, if he happened to bump into the boy alone. If Martin was with Jane, he could barely stutter out his lines at all, and his eyes were roaming up and down Jane's figure with a proprietary look that she did not appreciate at all.

For the fortnight following May Day, the situation in the household seemed to get more tense, just as Mr. Windham seemed to be on the cusp of making a major coup in business. The house was host to very distinguished gentlemen nearly every day, all coming in very fine coaches, and closeted with the gentleman of the house for hours. After they left, Mr. Wolcott always boasted during supper of how perfectly things had gone during the negotiations.

"We are making very good progress on the Turnbull mine. Very good progress indeed. Good lode of tin there, and some copper besides. Yes, it will be very profitable indeed."

"Really, Mr. Windham, must you discuss your business at the dinner table. You have already been at it all day, must you pollute our evenings as well?"

"This is important to this family. You should know what is keeping you in your gowns."

"When you start wearing my gowns, I will start wearing your trousers, and then I shall worry about your business, Sir."

Dinner was much like this on that Friday night, with the two principles either ignoring each other, or just talking over one another. Jane only remained as long as politeness demanded, before excusing herself, not a moment too soon."

In addition to worrying about her own situation and the children under her charge, by the time a fortnight had gone by since writing on May Day, she was starting to be a little concerned about Lizzy. She was not unduly worried, just a bit. She had written her straightaway after her talk with Lucy a fortnight ago, and had not received a reply. Ordinarily she wouldn't have been the slightest bit worried, as she had agreed with Lizzy that absent any compelling news, a letter per month or every six weeks should be sufficient. They didn't know how good their finances would be after they babes came, and spending half a day's wages on postage just to relieve their boredom or loneliness or anxiety didn't seem a good investment. However, she had been very explicit in her letter to Lizzy in Kent that she expected a reply by return post. She discussed it with Lucy just before they retired to their respective beds.

"Lucy, I'm a bit worried I haven't heard from my sister."

"You wrote her a fortnight ago, did you not?"

"And how long does it take the post to get to wherever your sister is?"

Jane said, "It varies depending on what day I send it, and the vagaries of the post. I has to go first to London, and then to Kent. The whole process will take as little as five days or as much as ten."

Lucy laughed, and said, "I may just be a parlor maid, but even I know it has only been fourteen days since May Day. Only good fortune with the gods of the post would have given you a return this soon, is that not so."

Jane admitted it was so,

"So you're fretting over nothing?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

With that, the women went to their respective beds, both disquieted but at least not worrying about what could not be changed. Jane had no way of knowing that Lizzy was already gone from Kent, and that her letter might not ever reach her.

* * *

 _A/N: Double Bonus second author's note. For those of you itching for a Darcy fix, fear not. He's next. Might even be a bit of Georgiana in the mix._


	34. The Tangled Web – Part I – May 18 1812

_A/N: OK, gang we're sort of in the home stretch here. All the threads are in place, and we shall see if I can make a fine tapestry or a tangled knot :)_

 _Here's a chapter to prove that I remember there's a Darcy in this story. You haven't heard much from him for a while. Wade_

* * *

"They aren't there!"

Georgiana Darcy looked up at her brother as he walked into the room with a look of pure frustration on his brow. Georgiana put aside what must have been the dullest piece of embroidery ever worked on. It probably wasn't all that bad per-se, but since her brother agreed to take her to Netherfield, she was anxious to get moving. The was tired of the same old routine, day in and day out. She wanted to _go somewhere_. She wanted to _do something._ She wanted to meet the _famous Bennet sisters._ She most certainly did not want to spend the summer in London, nor did she particularly want to be stuck in Pemberley. She was looking forward to the excitement. This seemed like a setback.

She replied with a pair of raised eyebrows, "I presume, you mean the Gardiners"?

"I do"

"Do you know where they've gone?"

Darcy let out a huge sigh, fell into the chair in front of Georgiana's and replied, "You probably won't believe it. Fate is playing tricks on us."

"I cannot comment on whether I believe it or not if you don't tell me.", Georgiana sighed with something between frustration and amusement in her voice. She knew her brother would eventually get around to telling her, and the idea of teasing him just a little had some appeal. Nobody ever teased her brother, and it was high time someone started! He was just too serious all the time. With no wife to perform the office, it was apparently to be her task.

She asked more explicitly, "So, where exactly are the wayward Gardiners?"

"Lambton"

Georgiana laughed as expected, and said, "Lambton! Surely, you jest Sir?"

"I rarely jest, Georgiana."

"Don't I know it! Perhaps if you tried it more often the Bennet sisters might not run away from you quite so precipitously."

Darcy looked at his sister, trying to determine if she was teasing or chastising; or if there was even a difference. Seemingly, his sister had grown up right in front of his eyes, and he was not sure he even knew the young lady that she was now. The fact that she was willing to tease him should be considered a good sign he reasoned.

"I will take that under advisement. I imagine a wise man would accept any advice when he's made such a hash of the whole business thus far."

Georgiana sighed and replied, "Brother, you are too hard on yourself. Of course, you've made a complete hash of things, and naturally you have occasionally behaved abominably. That's all true. But you are not beyond redemption. You are willing to take correction, so all you need do after you've performed some service for the Bennets is find any one of the sisters, and convince her to speak to the others on your behalf. How hard can that be?"

Darcy let out a small chuckle of his own, "I'm not sure how hard it would be for a more competent man, but I've been looking for all three for months, with nothing to show for it except one of the sisters decamping the county just to escape me."

Georgiana sighed, and replied, "I agree, that was not the ideal outcome for your meeting." Looking somewhat more serious, she continued, "Let us return to the subject at hand. The Gardiners are currently five miles from your estate. Go there and find them. You do remember where Lambton is I presume?"

Darcy gave a small chuckle and said, "I'm not sure I can actually find it, but my coachmen have some skill so we can muddle through." Apparently two could play at this teasing game as well once he put his mind to it. Since it was so new, neither of them was showing any real level of skill, but they had to start somewhere. Darcy hoped perhaps Miss Elizabeth might eventually be prevailed upon to give him lessons.

Georgiana asked the obvious question, "Well, Pemberley is four days' travel. What are you doing sitting around your parlor? Shouldn't you be writing a letter to the Gardiners and sending it by express? You can afford all the express riders you want."

Darcy drew a deep breath, and let it out, before continuing, "There is more."

Georgiana asked curiously, "More?"

"Yes, more. Mrs. Gardiner 's knows me, and may not have a favorable opinion of our family. The letter will not do. I must talk to them in person."

Georgiana's eyebrows went up at this revelation, hardly able to believe there could be somebody in Derbyshire who thought poorly of the Darcy's. She nodded to her brother to continue.

"It would seem that her connection to my family was not auspicious. One of her friends was imposed upon by… "

Georgiana, guessing the answer gasped, "No!"

Fitzwilliam continued, "Yes, none other than George Wickham. Apparently, they sought some relief from my father, or at least some punishment for Wickham, and my father did nothing."

Georgiana reached out and touched his leg softly, and said, "You are not your father, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy looked at her sheepishly, and replied, "And yet in the end, even after Ramsgate, I allowed Wickham to continue, so I'm not really any better. It was left to yet one more disgraced family to finally dispose of him. The most lackadaisical father in Hertfordshire, who has abandoned nearly every other responsibility for his family, finally took care of the deed. In the end, I did nothing and he did what needed to be done."

Georgiana looked at him sorrowfully and said, "You can continue to berate yourself the rest of your life if you want, or you can do something about it. Mrs. Gardiner will not accept a letter from you? Get on your horse Fitzwilliam. You have work to do."

Darcy, once again seeing the wisdom of his sister, was beginning to think he should just keep her with him always since she was so much more sensible than he was.

Darcy added, "The Gardiner's butler was surprisingly forthcoming. I have a bit of time to get there. The Gardiners are currently touring the Peaks District, and will be stopping in Lambton on the way back. They won't be there for a se'nnight or a fortnight. I've been neglecting my duties too long, so I'll go to Pemberley to take care of any pressing business while waiting for the Gardiners to arrive in Lambton. Once I get word from them, I'll decide what to do."

Georgiana didn't like the idea of being stuck in town while her brother went running about the countryside. She asked the obvious question, "And what about Netherfield? Now that you are master, what do you plan to do with it?"

Darcy explained, "I leased it because Bingley was neglecting it entirely. I wasn't certain the tenants would even be able to get the fall planning in the ground without assistance. I just wanted to see it properly taken care of for the rest of the term. That is of course aside from my selfish desire to return to the county with one of the sisters in tow and try to improve their fortunes. I've sent my steward's apprentice to make sure it's managed properly. He will correspond with me with any issues that need to be dealt with, and I will see the estate in person soon enough."

Georgiana eyed him little bit suspiciously, and said, "Improve their fortunes? Fitzwilliam, what have you done?"

Darcy was in no particular mood to discuss the arrangements he had already made, where might still make, so he simply demurred, "You will know when one of the Bennet sisters decides to tell you. Not before."

Georgiana had her suspicions, but thought it best to let the matter lie. She did however decide to push her luck a little bit, and said, "I will go there?"

Darcy, lacking any comprehension, said, "Go where?"

"Netherfield, of course."

Darcy stared at her, hardly believing audacity of the suggestion. It wasn't as if she were suggesting she was getting immigrate to the Canadas or something equally mad. She was going to travel three or four hours to a market town, but still?"

Georgiana, thinking do take advantage of his fatigue, and general suggestibility, pressed her advantage, "You need not fear something terrible will happen to me. According to Mr. Wilson's intelligence, the Bennets seldom leave Longbourn com and the rest of it is an ordinary market town like Lambton. It's not a village full of savages, after all."

Darcy, not certain whether he liked this is new aggressive Georgiana or not, replied "I cannot countenance you going there all alone."

Thinking the matter closed, Darcy prepared to move on to the next topic, but Georgiana was not to be moved.

"I will hardly be alone! I will obviously travel there with Mrs. Annesley. Your steward's apprentice will be there bustling about taking care of your business; and I'm sure Mr. Wilson is still there skulking around. And that's not to mention the dozen or more servants I'm sure you've already hired. I shall be quite safe, and I will promise to take at least one footman with me every time I step foot out-of-doors."

Darcy thought about this scheme for a couple of minutes, but could not find any true objection, other than his general reluctance. He eventually found that he did not so much agree to the plan, as recognize the futility of any further argument.

"Very well, Georgiana, you want to be a grown-up, so it must be time. It's off to Netherfield for you. "

Georgiana, perhaps not so grown-up after all giggled in delight, then jumped up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She said, "I will be quite all right Fitzwilliam. I'm not the girl who went to Ramsgate last year. I shall get along with Meryton just fine."

Darcy started to get up to get a much-needed bath and into bed, as he intended to leave at first light. Depending on where the Bennet sisters were, he might have quite a bit of hard traveling in his future.

Georgiana, as he walked out the door, added one last parting comment.

"Don't despair Fitzwilliam. You will find them, and you will help them. In the end, they may appreciate you, or they may disdain you, but you will be able to hold your head up for the rest of your life knowing you did your best."


	35. The Tangled Web – Part II – May 17 1812

_A/N: If you've been missing your Jane fix, this long chapter may satisfy you. It's about 2 ½ times my usual chapter size, but doesn't have any good places to break it and make you suffer waiting for more. Wade_

* * *

"They aren't here!"

The young lady looked to the elderly gentleman with complete puzzlement, and asked, "Not here sir? What do you mean?"

Mr. Gwinnett, the local magistrate looked at her kindly, took a puff on his cigar, apparently for courage, and said, "They have absconded Miss Gardiner. The Windhams attempted to sneak out of the town by ship while you were in church."

Jane stared at the gentleman in shock. Looking around the parlor of the house, she noticed an unusual and frantic level of activity. In fact, the place was quite the madhouse. Servants were running here and there at full speed, many carrying various belongings, none of them doing their ordinary business. Now that Jane was paying closer attention, she could see that some were even heading out the door, trunks and bags of belongings in their hands or slung across their backs.

Jane and the children were the last to return from church. It had been an unusual Sunday right from the beginning. The Windhams, in a change from usual custom requested their breakfast in their rooms. It was not unusual for either of them to do that on any given day, apparently to avoid the other. But for both to take a tray on the same day was most unusual.

Then both declined to attend church as well, which was unheard of. Jane had been completely mystified, but he simply assumed they must be ill, and took the children as was her usual custom.

At the end of the service, she was _very_ unusually detained by the Rector, who had apparently been requested by note to give Martin some type of personal instruction. This required Jane and the other children to cool their heels for more than an hour as the discussion proceeded.

When Jane arrived back at the house, it was to find bedlam, mass confusion, and Mr. Gwinnett standing in the front parlor, smoking a cigar, and looking very stern. Jane knew Mr. Gwinnett slightly, by virtue of meeting him during an assembly a few months back. He was also occasionally out with his own children, whom he did not appear to be afraid or ashamed of in the village commons. While they would not converse per se, she could see that he seemed quite amiable. He had a good reputation about town as an honorable and honest man according to Lucy.

Mr. Gwinnett, apparently satisfied with his current puff of smoke, continued the explanation.

"It would appear that Mr. Windham, and unusually enough, Mrs. Windham were both degenerate gamblers. Mr. Windham's business is entirely based on mining speculation, he also gamed extensively, and his house of cards collapsed last week. You probably noticed a lot of distinguished gentlemen visiting. Those were bankers, investors and others who were not yet aware of the calamity about to befall them. As if that weren't enough, both Mr. and Mrs. gambled, and both carry substantial debts of honor, among individuals that are best not crossed."

Had Jane been alone, she would have been tempted to scream, or cry, or fall into a chair, or beat her fists against the wall; or possibly against her own head. Apparently, she had abandoned the second worst parents in England, just to land in the house of the worst. Fate was _not_ being kind to her.

Jane saw Lucy walk by, so she interrupted her conversation with the magistrate for a moment.

"Lucy, have you heard the terrible news?"

Lucy could see that Jane was having a difficult time. Her friend would not be able to have a proper conversation with the magistrate with the children hanging about, so she offered, "I have missed you Jane. I'm hoping you will get to the bottom of it with the magistrate. He's already talked to the butler, but that horrid man just packed his things and left without a word. Let me take the children up to the room for a moment a while you talk to Mr. Gwinnett and you can tell me all about it."

Jane sighed in relief and said, "Thank you Lucy. Children, please go up to the nursery with Lucy. I will be there in a trice."

The children, not really understanding the conversation, but generally obedient agreed to the scheme; except for Martin. He said, "Miss Jane, I may be the head of this family now. I would stay."

Jane look to the boy, his spine appearing to grow as she watched, and agreed, "Very well, but Matthew and Amelia, please go with Lucy and I will come to you as soon as I possibly may."

Turning back to the magistrate, Jane asked the obvious, "So where have they gone?"

Mr. Gwinnett tapped the ash from his cigar into a nearby tray, and with the look of some dismay, replied, "They attempted to board a ship while you were in church. They were discovered by some of their creditors, and they're off to debtor's prison." In a hushed undertone that he thought Jane could not here, he said, "At least what's left of them."

Apparently not as silently as he hoped, he heard a startled gasp from Miss Gardiner, and she asked, "What's left of them sir?"

Fully caught out, Mr. Gwinnett decided to come clean.

"Some of their creditors were not among the most genteel of our population. There was quite a scuffle at the docks, between the gentleman bankers who wanted to see them rot in prison for the rest of their lives, other gentlemen who thought they might have some hidden assets, and some of his gambling debtors who were just as happy to make examples of them. Apparently, a compromise was reached where the pair got both a thorough beating, and a trip to prison."

Jane was beginning to get the picture, and not finding it to her liking in the least.

"Is that to be the way of it? Are they to rot in debtor's prison?"

"They are, it cannot be avoided now. Their debts were extensive. This house and everything in it is mortgaged to creditors. I'm afraid I have no control over the situation Miss Gardiner. _Everybody_ will need to be out of the house by the end of the day."

Once again Jane felt like screaming, but stiffened herself to perform her duty. She asked, "And what of the children?"

The older gentleman took another puff, tapped the ash again, and took a second puff; apparently woolgathering or perhaps working up his courage. Finally, he looked directly at Martin and said, "Your parents have abandoned you son. I'm afraid your future looks quite bleak."

Jane was impressed by Martin's steadiness, although she could see he would probably be collapsing in a corner soon enough once he had some privacy. Martin asked, "Might we be held accountable for their debts?"

Mr. Gwinnett looked at the boy in consideration, and said "It is possible. Creditors have quite a lot of power, and your parents have many. There will certainly be those among the who might seek retribution or an example, regardless of any legal precedent."

Jane gasped at this news, and asked, "But where are they go? How are they to live?"

With the crux of the matter in front of them, Mr. Gwinnett looked sadly at Jane and said, "Nobody will take them in, Miss Gardiner. Everyone has families of their own to deal with, and you can imagine how unlikely it is for a family to attract the scandal of taking in this bunch, even should somebody be so inclined, which is unlikely."

Jane blew out a breath, and admitted, "Yes, if they are to be taken in by friends of the Windham's, I'm afraid they are very thin on the ground, or possibly nonexistent. I've learned a lot in the last month, very little of it to my liking. And, I'm afraid Mr. Gwinnett, I already knew much more about scandals than I would wish, so I agree with your assessment."

Mr. Gwinnett nodded, and then said, "I'm afraid Miss Gardiner, it will be the workhouse for them. Some of their creditors will take a stipend from their work, and others will want them to be examples. There's nothing I can do about that. The boys will no doubt end up in the mines, and the girl will end up in a kitchen or doing textile work soon."

This time Jane very nearly did collapse. Had she been her mother, she would have been calling for her salts, running to her room calling for the long-lost Mrs. Hill, or screaming about her nerves and vexation. That feeling only lasted for a few seconds though. If Martin could straighten his spine, she could straighten hers as well, and so she did.

"Mr. Gwinnett! What happens if the children are taken in by a relative?"

The older gentleman looked at her appraisingly, spent a few more moments futzing about with the nearly dead cigar, and said, "I imagine if a _blood_ relative could be found, and they took the children away, most of the creditors would simply go about their business; presuming said relative took them _far_ away and made them er… difficult to locate. Most of the creditors are malicious, but they won't throw good money after bad searching for the children if they are not easy to find, since there is not that much profit to be had."

He looked a little bit harder at Jane, and said, "I would need to caution this long-lost relative not to tarry, and never come back."

Thus, far in her life, Jane Bennet's record with men was not auspicious. Starting with an indolent and inconstant father, proceeding to local neighborhood boys only interested in either her beauty or her position as a gentlewoman, to the one man she well and truly esteemed; who abandoned her over a minor embarrassment. She had no particular reason to have a great opinion of men, but she had not given up on the species entirely. Mr. Gwinnett was, she believed a sensible and honorable gentleman. She could see that he would do what was right; within reason. However, he was also the magistrate of the district, with his own family, and probably his own creditors to deal with. He may be walking a very fine line.

She took a quick glance it Martin, and was happy to see the boy standing tall and resolute. When she looked at him though, she mostly saw Amelia in her mind's eye. She thought about their future in the kitchens, or the mines or wherever it might be. She had never given very much thought to all the children who were stuck in service, or stuck in the mines, or begging in the streets, or working in the fields for a pittance. It was becoming clear to her that the world was not a fair place at all. It was not her place to fix all the world's ills, but much like her sister Lizzy, she thought that everyone needed to take care of their own. Looking at Martin, she realized that these three were now in that category. She had grown to love them, and allowing them to enter a life of poverty without any attempt to help was just not something she could do any more than they could just walk away from their younger sisters' unwanted children. She had her limits, and that would be beyond them. She had her own coming difficulties to deal with in a few months, but she just could not walk away doing nothing at all.

Jane sucked in a deep breath and said, "Mr. Gwinnett, it so happens that I am their aunt."

Mr. Gwinnett knew she was lying. Martin obviously knew she was lying. Jane herself was astounded to find how easily the lie came off her lips. Be that as it may, once the deception was begun it was frightfully easy to finish spinning the web.

"I am their last living relative outside of their parents. My parents have both died, and I am earning my living as you see. I will be taking the children with me!"

Martin gasped in surprise. He had been thinking seriously of how they would somehow escape this hellhole his parents had created. He was already determined that he would take any small amount he had saved, and hustle the other two children away before any creditor showed up. Going off with Miss Jane was not something he had anticipated at all, and he still could not quite believe his good fortune.

Mr. Gwinnett looked appraisingly at Jane. He had to give her credit for some backbone. He knew she was lying, and she obviously knew he knew, but the deception suited both and he had no real qualms about her plan; or at least not enough to interfere. He studied her carefully for a moment, and said, "There is a stage going west leaving in two hours, Miss Gardiner. If you truly mean to go through with this scheme, I would suggest you be on it, with only what you can carry."

Jane asked, "Where does that stage go?"

Mr. Gwinnett replied, "Does it matter, Miss Gardiner? You probably do not wish to take a stage _directly_ to wherever you ultimately plan to end up. Go west Miss Gardiner, for a time. Rumors are funny things. I strongly suspect, you will be rumored to be on a ship to the Canadas before the day is out. It wouldn't hurt for you to ask some questions about that possibility."

Jane and Mr. Gwinnett were now in complete accord, and the plan was set. All that remained was to put it in place. Just as Jane was ready to make some last parting comments, Lucy ran into the room and said breathlessly, "Jane, come see your room quickly. It has been ransacked."

Lifting her skirts Jane ran breathlessly after Lucy, with Martin following close on their heels, and Mr. Gwinnett following at a more sedate pace. As they were going, Lucy breathlessly said, "It looks like the master and the mistress went through the house looking for any loose money they could find. They've stolen the savings from a few of the servants, and it looks like they went through your room as well."

Jane entered her room and looked about in dismay. All her clothing and the other things she brought from Longbourn were scattered about the room as if by a madman. She did not have that much with her, just what she could carry on the stage, but all of it was now thoroughly scattered and much of it ruined. She had carefully hidden most of the coin she's been paid in a hidden alcove in one corner of the room, and the rest was hidden in two or three other places. She thought it was well hidden and secure, but now she saw the error of her ways. The walls of the room had several holes that looked like they were created by an axe. Whoever had done this was in a hurry and not concerned about any damage done. She went to the corner alcove that had most of her savings, and found that everything was gone. She let out a little scream of dismay and started looking frantically about the other hidden spots she had used. She found a pound in one hidden spot in the bottom of a bureau, and another that she had sewed into her trunk. She kept a few shillings in her reticle and on the advice of her aunt she had a pound sewed in a hidden pocket in her dress. All the rest of the money she had in the world was gone forever. Lizzy was going to throw a fit!

Jane sighed in dismay, and flopped down into the bed. She now had just over £3 in the world, which was not nearly enough to get all four of them where they were going. She started thinking furiously, and Martin stepped in front of her. She looked up to see Amelia and Mathew standing in the doorway, both staring at her with frightened looks. She didn't know how much the children had heard, but they certainly knew enough to know they were in a tight spot.

Martin offered, "Miss Jane, my father has given me money from time to time. I kept most of it, so I can add £2 to the total."

Jane thought furiously, trying to do sums and see how they could get to where they might go. £5 might be enough to get them close, but just barely and with no comforts whatsoever. She might have to stop somewhere in the middle and take lodgings, and beg assistance from her uncle or send to Lizzy in Kent.

Mr. Gwinnet tried sucking another drag from his now defunct cigar, looked at it quizzically as finding it somehow at fault for not awaiting his pleasure, and said casually, "Miss Gardiner, I believe you may have overlooked the coin on the dressing table."

Jane looked over at the table and saw two more pounds sitting in plain sight on the, and looked back at the gentleman. He arched a single eyebrow in a way that reminded him of Lizzy, and Jane carefully answered, "I thank you Mr. Gwinnet for your… uh… observational prowess." She was not above deception or charity at this point. In fact, she doubted she could think of much of anything she was above now. She had a task to perform.

Mr. Gwinnet said, "£7 will not get you to the ends of the earth, but it will get you some distance. I think you might also find your fare paid for the first coach, but do not tarry. Two hours, Miss Gardiner."

Jane jumped up to get to work, and thanked the gentleman profusely while bustling the children out the door. For his part, Mr. Gwinnet was satisfied with the exchange, and felt like he had walked the right side of the fine line. He took his leave, and left the ladies to their tasks.

Once the gentleman left, Jane started barking orders like a general. They were to leave in less than an hour, with only what they could carry. As far as she could see, she had several weeks of hard travel in front of her. She could not weave a straight or easy route to her destination, as she wanted any creditors to have to at least work for it. She had no idea how she was to go about skulking around like a villain in a novel, but she was determined to learn and do the best she could.

"Martin and Mathew. Pack one large trunk to share between you, or two smaller ones, but do it quickly. I will go with Amelia and help her. You need mostly underclothes, not outer. We need shifts, smallclothes, socks, that sort of thing. Anything that goes against the skin you want to have at least two of. We may be in the rain, so if you have a greatcoat bring it. We must be practical and we must be quick about it. Don't bring anything that will be missed, but if you have any valuables that are light that could be sold when we're far away, bring them."

Martin and Mathew agreed and ran off at a full run toward the nursery.

Jane grabbed Amelia's hand and started leading her toward her room to do the same. The boys would be fine, but she still had to pack both hers and Amelia's clothes. She was so focused on her tasks she ran full tilt into Lucy and nearly knocked both of them to the ground.

Lucy recovered first and asked, "Jane, I'll not ask where you're going for now. I only want to know one thing. Where you are going, do you know people? Could you help me get employment without a reference?"

Jane looked at the first true friend she had made all on her own, and said, "Lucy I could probably do more than that, but I don't have enough money to get you there."

Lucy said, "Will £2 be enough to get me there?"

Jane said, "Let's walk while we talk. I do not have much time. As they went to the nursery to pack for Amelia, Jane continued, "Lucy, we are due some very hard traveling. £2 will certainly get you there, but you could just as easily wait a week and go there directly for a lot less. I could not ask it of you."

Lucy snorted a lot like Lydia did, and Jane wondered if she was yet another missing Bennet sister. It wouldn't surprise her, or maybe fate just liked to throw people together of similar temperament. When Lucy got herself under regulation, she said, "Jane, you are the first true friend I've ever had, and I can't see you taking on this charge all by yourself. I would like to throw my lot in with you. I can pay my way, and expect nothing but your friendship wherever we land."

Jane stopped dead and looked carefully at Lucy and replied, "I believe you are also my first true friend, and I would be happy to have you with us. It may be an arduous task though. Are you sure you want to do it?"

Lucy said, "Would it be worse than this house?"

Jane admitted that after the last month, just about any house would be an improvement, so she readily agreed. Once accord was reached, they sprang into action.

Lucy said, "I have already packed everything I want to take. I will deal with Amelia, while you go pack your things, and make any other arrangements."

Jane had been thinking furiously for the last several minutes, and readily agreed. There was so much to think of, and so many things to plan for their safe transportation. She couldn't even begin to think of what Lizzy would think of this development but that was tomorrow's problem. Today, she had to deal with today's problem.

Just as she reached her room, she bumped into another maid that she knew slightly. They had shared several conversations, but did not have the intimacy she shared with Lucy. Eleanor's most notable characteristic was that she was nearly identical in size and shape to Jane. The other maids had sometimes jokingly called her Eleanor's twin.

Forming another plan, Jane asked, "Elinor! Will things be well for you?"

Eleanor replied, "Yes, Miss Jane. My parents live but five miles from town. I can return there and stay a few months, and then another position will open. All will be well."

Jane sighed in relief, and pressed her idea.

"Eleanor, I hope I don't ask too much, but would you consider trading one of my dresses for one of yours."

Eleanor looked at her quizzically, and said, "So you want to trade me a dress that's worth three times what mine is, and you think it might be asking too much? You're a strange creature, Miss Jane. Of course, I'll be happy to do so. I heard what you're doing. I would just give you the dress if you needed it. I don't have an extra in the house though, so it must be the one I'm wearing."

Jane agreed to the scheme immediately, and both women went into her room to switch the dresses. On an impulse, Jane asked, "Do you know where I could get similar servant or tradesman's garb for the children. I think I may desire to be less conspicuous as we travel away from town."

Eleanor asked how much time they had, and agreed that she could easily trade some of the children's clothing for more modest garb, and two hours should be enough time to affect the trade. She ran out of the room feeling very fine in Jane's spare dress, after agreeing to meet at the stage just before it left.

Jane quickly packed her trunk, then hurried to check the schoolroom and the nursery for anything else that they could carry that might be useful. Feeling a little bit vulnerable, she also ran down to the kitchen, and finding it a madhouse, looked around until she found a small knife and some eating utensils, which she surreptitiously tucked away for later.

In a surprisingly short time, and in surprisingly short order, all five of the travelers squeezed into the coach and started their trip to the west, leaving behind a stationmaster thoroughly charmed by the ever amiable _Miss Gardiner_ , and fully convinced they were headed for the Canadas from a different port.


	36. The Tangled Web - Part III-June 12 1812

_Reposting as there was some sort of site snafu with the last post. The chapter has not changed.  
_

 _A/N: You get a both a longer note and a longer chapter than usual this time. Let me answer some questions/concerns from the reviews._

 _Timeline jumping around_ _: I confess this is occasionally deliberate, but mostly accidental because the story changed so much after I started. I painted myself into corners more than once by all my jumping around, and then I changed and expanded the story as it came to life. Part of that is inevitable, and part is bad planning. I will go back and make it more sensible when it's all done. I guess that's part of the price for reading live fan fiction as it's being made. We're close to resolution, and the rest of the story_ _should_ _go forward with no more jumping around. (Maybe one teensy tiny little jog or two). Also, even though the timeline is complicated, it does all work._

 _How can everyone not know stuff_ _: For example, neither Jane nor Elizabeth know about Kitty's miscarriage yet. Part of that is the self-imposed isolation both girls engaged in, which is admittedly irrational, but just the way I played out the story. We also forget in this day and age that at the time, a letter was expensive and took some time. I conveniently sent Jane 300 miles away (thought about Cornwall because of Pouldark), to introduce confusion. A letter cost Lizzy and Jane about ½ a day's wages, so they would not write that often. At this point: 1) Neither woman knows about Kitty, 2) Lizzy did arrange to monitor the girls, but late in the day and the plan ran into unexpected difficulties, 3) Darcy is doing his very best. Still a little behind time, but with his heart in the right place, 4) Jane has no idea Lizzy has moved away from Kent yet (that will be exposed in about 2 chapters)._

 _HEAs?: I hate to do spoilers in A/N's because not everyone wants one. If you want to see the answer, click_ _Forums_ _and then_ _Books_ _above, then search for_ _Cliffs Hertfordshire_ _._

 _Could this plan work_ _: Yes, it is a workable plan. Remember women have been raising babies by themselves for thousands of years. It's not even close to ideal, but even then, it was doable. Of course, I had to do tons of research to convince myself of that. If anyone is interested, I can post links. BTW, all the book stuff is real and was frequently done by women until about the 1820s. Mary's income is about right. There was a fine line between medical men, charlatans and witchdoctors in those days. Travel times are mostly accurate, although there was quite a bit of variance (you'll see lots of travel times in next chapters). Mail was fast and fairly reliable even in 1812, but not bulletproof. A letter from Cornwall to Kent would take 7-14 days to arrive_ _usually_ _, but it wasn't unusual for it to take longer. Most letters went through London most of the time, regardless of source and destination (but not always). Lizzy's abrupt departure from Kent (running from FD as you may recall) really bolloxed up the communication between Lizzy and pretty much everyone else. Jane doesn't even know she left yet (mail delays). It is possible to travel much faster than anyone does in Canon, and I'll have examples coming up. Miscarriages in the first trimester are quite common even today, and even more so back then – more than 20%. England was at war for almost all of JA's life, and her brother was in the navy, so it's no surprise it shows up JA and in JAFF._

 _Do you always write strong women_ _: Yes, I do_

 _[Insert random Bennet sister] is acting out of character, being selfish, irrational, impractical, annoying, etc._ _: Yes they are._

 _How much more angst? I'm about tapped out (and thoroughly tapped out on cliffs analogies)_ _: No more of either._

 _Can you really untangle this mess of a timeline_ _: Yes, I can… I think ;)_

 ** _I must give a big thank you to all the thoughtful reviews I've received. They all help immensely. I prefer signed reviews to guest reviews so I can reply to you, but I read and respect every one._**

* * *

"Hello, Lydia"

Of all the people in the world Elizabeth Bennet expected or desired to show up on her doorstep, this was the very last. Yes, she was her sister, and yes, Elizabeth was planning to take over the task of raising that sister's child, but that did not in her mind mean she would actually have to _tolerate said sister_ … _in person… for 3 months!_

Lydia, for her part, set about proving beyond any doubt that she was in fact Lydia Bennet.

"What a tiny little place. How are we expected to stay here? You will not believe the horrid time we've had Lizzy. Did you know Father shot Mr. Wickham in his study, and later Mr. Wickham was to be hanged? He didn't get the noose though, as there appeared to be some sort of mishap on the gallows. Mr. Denny says he lost 3 shillings wager on the matter. Where am I to sleep? I'm SO HUNGRY!"

Elizabeth, finally recovering the power of speech said, "What are you doing here Lydia? How did you get here?"

That was apparently enough encouragement to start another round with Lydia.

"Father threw me out with nothing but a few pounds and some curses to my name, and asked Mrs. Quincy to bring me to you. What a horrid woman she is! I cannot believe I've had to travel with her these three weeks. Then we went to Kent and had to stay with that horrible Mr. Smyth, and I was sick as a dog every morning. Then we've been in carriages for days and days and days getting to this awful godforsaken placed!"

Elizabeth looked over at Mrs. Quincy in horror. Elizabeth could not believe how very disagreeable, selfish and stupid her sister could be, nor that Mrs. Quincy had managed to refrain from strangling the ungrateful girl.

Mrs. Quincy said, "Never you mind child. I brought both of you into the world, and I'm not to be troubled by a spoiled child… although, I have to say I have had my fill, mind you."

Elizabeth said quickly, "Mrs. Quincy, I am thoroughly mortified. I must pay you for your services and send you back home immediately with my deepest apologies, although I doubt I will ever be able to repay you for such an awful experience."

Mrs. Quincy looked at her forgivingly. Mrs. Quincy was well known as a wise elder in the village, and no woman within 20 miles wanted to have a child without her in attendance. Mrs. Quincy said, "I rather like this village Elizabeth. I might stay a bit, if it's all the same to you. I'll deliver this little hellion's child, then decide what to do."

Elizabeth sighed in relief. She liked the midwife that had delivered Samuel very much, but she did not _know_ her. Mrs. Quincy was someone she knew and trusted from birth. Elizabeth had to admit that her mother was a foolish and selfish woman, but she did know about safely delivering babies into the world.

"Lizzy, I need something to eat", Lydia rudely interrupted. Mrs. Frog, who had seen the entire incident including the younger girl's comments on her most generous son, took pity on Elizabeth and said, "Come Miss Lydia. I will get you something to eat, and dragged the girl away by her arm before she could protest."

Laura came into the room, being a witness the entire sad affair. In fact, everyone in the village must have been a witness by now. Elizabeth performed the introductions, at least to those newly arrived who deserved it. Laura said, "Mrs. Quincy, I would offer you our hospitality, but I think that would deserve censure more than praise under the present circumstances, do you not agree?"

Mrs. Quincy agreed readily enough, so Laura offered, "My midwife is a lovely woman, a widow living in a neat and tidy cottage just down the lane. I believe she would be happy for some company if you are amenable to the idea."

Mrs. Quincy laughed and said, "Like with Like you are thinking Mrs. Wolcott?"

Laura, not to be outdone said, "Yes, Intelligent and amiable woman with intelligent and amiable woman."

Mrs. Quincy laughed a bit at the one-upmanship, and acknowledged the victory with her eyes. Then her countenance became sadder, and she looked at Elizabeth and said, "Has anyone told you that your sister Kitty lost the child, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth gasped in shock, and asked, "No!...When!"

"Late April. I did not know where to write you, and I'll be hanged if I was going to ask your father."

Elizabeth replied, "It is good you spared yourself the trouble. I'm afraid he doesn't know. In fact, I'm not even sure Jane knows. I haven't heard back from her since I arrived here and sent my direction. I am beginning to worry very much about Jane. I should have heard from her by now."

Mrs. Quincy said, "I took the liberty of writing to your Uncle Gardiner to ask him to pass the information on to both you and your sister, but I do not know that he has done so."

"Unless you sent it express, I'm afraid he would not have received it. He is on holiday in the Peak District, and anything not obviously urgent would await his return. I'm afraid Jane will know nothing of this. I must write her immediately. There was a bit of confusion when we left Kent unexpectedly, and I have not heard from her in over a month. She must have written to me in Kent, but I have not received it."

Mrs. Quincy said, "We went through Mr. Smyth's estate in Kent on the way here. That was the last direction I had, and your father did not give us any time to confirm. Mr. Smyth was a gracious host, but a week with Lydia would try anyone's patience, and we left as soon as she could travel."

Elizabeth asked, "Was she unwell?"

"No more than usual, but she was sick in the mornings for nearly a se'nnight. It is normal and expected, but I did not want to trespass on his hospitality for long. He is the most perfect gentleman, but even he has his limits."

Mrs. Quincy could think of nothing more to add to the matter, so not one to dwell on things she could not change, she decided to get herself settled. She looked Laura up and down, and said, "Yesterday, unless I miss my guess?"

Laura smiled and nodded, so Mrs. Quincy said, "And why exactly are you wandering about the house now and not in your bed."

Laura nodded her head and said, "I will do as you say, Mrs. Quincy. I just could not stand to not be aware of what is happening in my own home."

Mrs. Quincy relented a bit and said, "As well you should. You gave birth. Women do it every day and you are not crippled, but you do need rest, so do not overdo it."

Mrs. Quincy, shooing Laura off towards where she presumed her bed lay, said, "I will be happy to visit your friend Mrs. Wolcott, but I will not leave this house without a look at your child."

Elizabeth said, "Little Samuel will be most happy to make your acquaintance Mrs. Quincy, and I cannot thank you enough."

Mrs. Quincy said, "Think nothing of it Elizabeth. I've never been away from Meryton, and I think of this as quite a holiday. I may just like it here."

Elizabeth said, "You are always welcome with me wherever I go Mrs. Quincy, you know that, and you are welcome here as long as you wish to stay."

"Yes Elizabeth, I know that". Then turning her head, she added, "Let us go see this boy of yours, Mrs. Wolcott."

Lizzy wanted desperately to go with the women to visit little Samuel, but she had a sister to deal with, and she had no intention of subjecting Mrs. Frog to one more moment than necessary.

* * *

The next two days with Lydia were nearly unbearable. Elizabeth began to have just a touch of sympathy for her father, until she remembered the problem was of his own creation. Her breaking point came sooner than she would have expected, in the workroom she had taken to using for her bookbinding work. Her breaking point was a perfect capstone to a half-year of chaos and madness.

She had a near constant source of delight, in her new family, the soon-to-be Wolcotts, and in her new book trade which she was taking to like a duck to water. She also had little Samuel on the positive side of the ledger. Samuel was a delight in every way possible, even when he was vexing her, and to tell the truth she was quite looking forward to the child she was to raise… or maybe she was just looking forward to the lack of her sister.

She was sitting with her sister Lydia, putting the finishing touches on the leather binding for a book for one of the local estates. Lydia was complaining almost constantly. She of course had had always had a lot to complain about, even when her mother was giving her every attention and every compliment.

Not only that, no amount of effort on Elizabeth's part could get the girl to do the slightest lick of work. She would not take out her own chamber pot, or clean up after herself, or help with the cooking, or help with the books, or do anything save sit around and complain. Elizabeth was at her wits end. What was she to do? She couldn't think of any way to punish Lydia without punishing the baby instead. What were her choices? Starve the girl? Lock her in her room? Prevent her from getting any exercise, or any society whatsoever? How would that help?

Today was a typical day, with Lydia complaining loudly as usual.

"I'm so tired, and my back is so sore. I can't sit down. I can't lay down. I have to use the chamber pot every quarter-hour. This is in every way awful."

Elizabeth, decided to try distracting her while getting an answer to a question that was vexing her.

"Lydia, are you _absolutely_ certain you wish nothing to do with this child. Have you no feelings at all for it?"

"No! I want nothing to do with this thing! I will not even look at it! You are welcome to it! Horrid awful things… babies. I don't know why I had the misfortune to be with child."

Elizabeth's nerves were beginning to fray, and she said, "Lydia, you brought this on yourself by laying with a man before matrimony. You are the source of all your own troubles. Have you learned nothing?"

Lydia screamed, "It is not my fault! Nobody told me! How was I to know! It doesn't matter anyway. I will be rid of it soon enough, and then I shall marry an officer as I should."

Such lack of feelings made Elizabeth steam, and it was all she could do to not scream at her sister in frustration. She did however manage to keep her tongue in check, and asked a question that had been on her mind ever since Mrs. Quincy had intimated the rumors abounding in Meryton.

"Lydia, who is the father of this child? It doesn't matter to me, but I would like to know. Was it Mr. Wickham?"

Lydia laughed at her openly. In fact, she laughed, and laughed, and snorted and giggled in the most infuriating manner possible, and said, "Of course not! How could you even think that? He's only a lieutenant. I would never lie with a mere lieutenant. I'm made for a greater man than that. It was a full colonel."

Elizabeth asked in shock, "Not Colonel Forster?"

Lydia for once a little calmer than usual answered, "No, it was Colonel Miller. He was here with the regiment for the first fortnight."

Elizabeth saw for once just a glimmer of hope that Lydia would be serious for once, asked, "And what happened."

Lydia lost every bit of her pensive mood, and screamed back at Elizabeth, "You know what happened Lizzy. We were in love and I lay with him to prove my love, but he was called away by the king himself with important business on the continent fighting Napoleon himself, and he had to attend his duties, but he will be back for me. He swore it."

Elizabeth, nearly losing her temper, thought this may be her only chance to instruct this ignorant girl, and said, "Lydia, he will never be back. He just took advantage of a naïve girl to have his way. Men do that all the time. That's why we are taught to respect the vows of marriage. This is why you are supposed to save that for your husband!"

Lydia, no stranger to temper herself, leaned across the table as her distended belly would allow and screamed with the full fury of her righteous indignation.

"You are just jealous of my beauty and my ability to attract a man Lizzy Bennet. You are a spinster in the making. You are here with these horrid people that are in every way beneath us, living this squalid life, and you are just jealous that I will be an officer's wife, and attend parties and balls, and enjoy my life while you rot away in this miserable house in this miserable county with these miserable people. Everyone I have met since I left Longbourn has been horrible to me. That man in Kent was as rude as he could be. I hated it there, and he only gave us ten pounds to come all the way here."

It was at that point that Elizabeth Bennet reached her breaking point. Nothing had prepared her for the sheer, white hot fury that engulfed her. Gone was every idea that she was somehow at fault. Gone was any culpability in her family's downfall. Gone was ever good and proper and amiable feeling, and nearly every pretense of civility. Some say civilization is only a thin veneer, and she for the first time in her life got a glimpse of just how thin, and how ugly what was below might turn out to be.

With her face in a grimace of rage, she looked around at her sister and the innocent she carried, looked around at her work table, and with every ounce of self‑control she possessed, she did the mildest and least offensive thing she could think of.

She was currently engaged in binding a book in very fine leather for a wealthy gentleman from an estate ten miles away. She took up a piece of calfskin leather the width of her hand and several feet long, jumped up from the table and walked behind her sister. Without a second thought, she pulled the leather in front of the screaming girl's mouth, pulled it behind her head and tied it in a tight knot, probably ruining a piece of leather that would cost her a week's wages.

Once the leather was firmly in place, and Lydia was for once silent, her rage tamped down to a barely controllable level, and she calmly went back to the other side of the table and looked at her sister staring at her in fright. She picked up the sharp knife she used to cut the leather, and started absently cleaning her fingernails with the point as she casually started talking in a voice so soft, Lydia had to lean across the table and listen intently to hear it..

"You listen to me, Miss Lydia Bennet! I have reached my breaking point! I am through! Our father has only been right about one thing in his life. You are indeed the silliest and most ignorant girl in England. You have been taken advantage of, and you do not even know it. You have cost all of your sisters their prospects for advantageous marriage, and while I do not repine the loss in the slightest, that was not your choice to make for me. You have been selfish all your life, and now you are being rode, ignorant and vile on top of it."

Elizabeth felt like she was about to explode, but saw her hands were steady as a rock, while they idly continued cleaning her fingernails. Her voice was like iron grating against stone, one implacable force against another.

She looked casually at her sister and said, "I will only ask one thing Lydia Bennet, and you will obey! From this moment, until this child is born, you will not say a single unkind word in this house. These people that you look down are ten times the person you are, and they have taken you into their homes out of pure kindness, and out of love for me. You will take on your share of the work without complaint, and when this child is born, you will either decide to accept your role as mother or you will not. If you accept it, I will do everything in my power to help you. If you reject it, you will leave this house within a week and never darken my doorstep again."

She looked at Lydia, who was looking at her with the most shocked look of fear she had ever seen, and said, "Are we in agreement, Lydia Bennet?"

Lydia just nodded her head. Whether in fear or agreement was yet to be seen, but at the very least, _one_ person had _finally_ managed to get through to the core of Lydia Bennet, and someone had finally made her _listen_. Perhaps it would be enough, and perhaps it would not, but Elizabeth had done her very best, and hoped it would suffice.

She got up, calmly walked behind Lydia, removed the leather, and said as calmly as you please, "Go clean up your room and get ready for supper Lydia. I would appreciate it if you help with the meal."

Lydia got up from the table without another word, and went to do as she was bid.

* * *

A _very_ chastened Lydia Bennet was on her very best behavior for the rest of the evening, and in the morning, she _very_ timidly and cautiously approached Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked up from trying to rescue the fine leather she had used on her sister the previous day, and waited to see what would happen.

Lydia said, "Lizzy, I want to apologize for my treatment of you, Mrs. Quincy and everyone here. It was… it was… it was wrong."

Elizabeth stared at Lydia in shock. To her knowledge, Lydia Bennet had never apologized to anyone for anything in her life. She took some pity on her sister, and said, "It's alright Liddy. Can we just get through this, please?"

Lydia nodded her head in agreement, and for once Elizabeth thought this might just work out.

Lydia handed her a small wrapped parcel and said, "Lizzy, please don't be mad, but these letters were waiting for you in Kent. I forgot them until just this morning."

Elizabeth vacillated between joy at finally possibly hearing from Jane, and the need to scream in frustration at her sister; and finally decided she would take the good of the day and forget the bad.

"It's alright, Liddy. I hope they're from Jane. I am tremendously worried about her."

With breathless anticipation, Elizabeth tore open the first letter, dated May 1, thinking it was nice that Jane decided to write to her on May Day. Then as she read, her face fell at what she saw was happening in the house. Lydia watched in some dismay as Elizabeth's face fell, and she said, "Oh no! Jane has landed in a bad household. This was over six weeks ago! I must know what has happened."

With eager fright, she tore open the next letter, dated May 15, and its contents were even more frightening. She was glad to see that Jane as taking steps to protect herself, and her friend Lucy seemed a kind and sensible woman. The women of the household seemed to be taking care to stick together to prevent anything untoward from happening. She hoped Jane would do the sensible thing and just leave, but she doubted her sense of duty would allow it. It was a frightening environment, but not necessarily untenable, except for one thing. This one thing frightened her to death.

Today was the 12th of June. Jane's last letter was nearly a month ago. Lizzy wrote to her as soon as she arrived at the Wolcotts on the 11th with the new direction, and that letter should have arrived in time for Jane to write back by now. Where was Jane's letter?

She needed advice most urgently, so grabbing Lydia's hand, she ran from the room looking for the Frogs.

* * *

Mr. Wolcott and Mrs. Smyth, enjoying the last few weeks of her current surname examined both letters critically. Then they got out a calendar and marked all the important dates. There was the time for the letters from Jane, the dates Lydia was in Kent, the days Lizzy had been in Kent and the days they arrived. Mr. Wolcott, who seemed to have a book for everything pulled a book of mail schedules and routes from a high shelf in back of the shop and pored over it.

After a careful perusal, as Mr. Wolcott did not do anything haphazardly, he finally concluded, "We just don't know Elizabeth. It seems plausible that Jane never got your letter from here, or if she was in such a disreputable house, they could well have lost or even destroyed your letters. She would have posted her letters though, but if she sent one after the 15th of May, it should by all rights have been in Kent for your sister to take, and Mr. Smyth's household is not one to lose letters. It's not certain something bad has happened to your sister, but I am concerned. I am very concerned, and it's been nearly a month since you knew anything of her."

If Elizabeth had been hoping against hope that the older and wiser gentleman would pull some magic out of the air to make her sanguine about Jane's prospects, this was not it.

Elizabeth said, "I know not what to do. If Lydia weren't here and you weren't counting on me for the business, I would be on the first coach, but even that will take weeks to get there."

Mrs. Smyth asked, "Are you that concerned about her? She is a clever girl is she not?"

Elizabeth admitted that she was, but that she also had a strong sense of duty, and she could not see Jane abandoning her post and her charges absent a very compelling reason, such as the encouragement of her sister.

Mr. Wolcott looked at her carefully, leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his pipe. In only a short time Elizabeth had learned this was his thinking posture, and she patiently waited for him to work it out in his head. At length, he asked, "How bad do you want to see your sisters? Would you endure some real discomfort and expense?"

Elizabeth said, "I would endure anything. She is there at my behest. She would still be at Longbourn absent my plan."

Mrs. Smyth demurred, "Who can say Elizabeth. There seems little point in recriminations about the past."

Elizabeth admitted she was right.

Mr. Wolcott said, "How much do you know about mail coaches, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth owned that she knew practically nothing.

"They run at night, and usually take four passengers. They travel nearly 100 miles in a night, with changes of horses every 20 miles. There is no attention whatsoever paid to passenger comfort. You may get a stop of five minutes, every two hours for the full twelve hours of the night. You can sleep during the day, or take a private coach that is slower but will advance you. Carefully done, you could be to Jane by next Tuesday or Wednesday, or if you wait until Monday to leave, you could still be there by Friday."

Elizabeth looked at him in astonishment. It had taken them four days to come here from Kent, and Mr. Wolcott was proposing she go all the way to Cornwall in the same four or five days. She was just about to assert that it was impossible, but wisely decided to look at Mr. Wolcott's mail schedules instead, and was astonished to learn that it was possible.

Mr. Wolcott came back with a roll of maps, and started showing her the routes she would need to take, and the alternates she would need in case of difficulty.

Of course, her next concern was the cost, but Mr. Wolcott showed her the rate tables next. At 1 pence per mile, if she managed to sleep some on the mail coaches during the night, and keep moving she might not need a lot of lodging. She _could_ get to Cornwall and back for £5-7.

In her job as Mrs. Smyth's companion, or as an idle daughter of her father that would have been a month's wages. Elizabeth would happily give up much more than that to assure herself of Jane's safety.

She was just about resolved to go, when she spied the last remaining obstacle across the table. Her mouth hung open in shock when Lydia said, "You go Lizzy. I will behave."

A careful look at Mr. Wolcott and Mrs. Smyth showed they were in agreement with the scheme, neither of them in the least intimidated by Lydia Bennet.

Laura said, "It will be a difficult and unpleasant experience Lizzy, but I don't see how you can avoid it. You must go."

Lizzy was in agreement, and just for the record, Samuel abstained.


	37. Journey of the Fox – May 20 1812

**Thwack**

Jane Bennet felt a distinct, but not unbearable pain in her knee. She looked down quickly and saw two things of note. One was that the oily parson who kept moving closer and closer to her with every bump for the previous several hours, and who would listen to her chastisement and move back in the corner, only to start moving back almost immediately; apparently finally worked his nerve up to place his hand directly on her knee, _accidentally_ of course, when the carriage went over a bump. The second interesting item of note was that he was screaming, holding up his hand which had at least one finger bent in in an unnatural direction. A quick flick of her eyes showed a leather sling moving quickly across the gap between the seats, holding a rock that looked apparently sufficient to do the job.

The parson started screaming like a little girl, cursing at the children, cursing at Jane, and crawling like a rat towards the corner as if he were cornered by a wild bear, rather than a woman and three young children. Jane looked over the parson to satisfy herself that he would stay put this time. The man reminded her of her cousin Collins, if one doubled all of Mr. Collins bad attributes and halved all of his good ones. She was mightily happy that she did not live anywhere near his parish, wherever that may be.

Satisfied that he was going to keep his place, even though she could barely hear herself think with his carrying on, (You would think his hand was broken), she looked over to Martin to give her thanks. Confusingly enough, Martin did not have the sling in his hand. Neither did Matthew. With a small smile, she looked over at her Amelia, who was giving the parson the most insincere look of apology imaginable.

"Oh My! Oh No! My apologies sir! My apologies! I am so sorry! I do not mean to hurt you. My brothers have been teaching me to use the sling and I lost control. I do you will accept my deepest, most sincere, and most humble apologies, Sir!"

Jane almost snorted with the insincerity of the speech, which was so blatantly false, that it should have been obvious even to the parson; even though he appeared to be the stupidest man in England. The parson had at least quit screaming, but was still babbling, so Jane thought that she should actually do her duty and chastise the young girl properly for her poor behavior.

She said in the sternest tone of voice she could manage, "Mary Beth Masterson! How many times have I told you not to practice with your sling in a carriage? Can you not be trusted for anything? If you must practice your weapons in the carriage, use your knife instead. At least you have a good chance of hitting the right target."

Amelia, warming to the subterfuge, said "But Mrs. Nicholson! I just sharpened my knife this morning. It is like my father's razor. If I start throwing it about, it will dull the point, then I will just have to sharpen it all over again, and you know I only carry the two."

Jane schooled her features to one of near indifference, looked directly at the parson, and said "Is that not what knives are for, dear?"

The parson took up his walking stick and started beating on the top of the carriage like a madman. A few minutes of beating and yelling out the window eventually caused the coachmen to stop the carriage, although he was clearly not in the least happy with this particular development. The parson crawled out of the carriage as quickly as he possibly could, and insisted on riding on the top. Lucy shrugged philosophically, climbed back down, got in with the rest of her party, and said "What did I miss?"

Jane explained what had happened, and then smiled at Amelia for her quick thinking, and her even quicker sling. Then she proceeded with more directions. "Amelia, I will need your help at the next stop. I would like everybody in the county to be well aware that the Masterson family is heading west towards Hatfield."

Amelia just smiled at the task, and Jane considered it practically done.

* * *

Jane was very worried about the fate of her charges and herself, but mostly vexed that she _just did not know what to do_. The warnings about creditors seemed both sincere and worrisome, but how much should she be concerned about them? Would they hunt her to the ends of the earth, or give up after a few days, or not even look in the first place? They certainly would not follow her to the Americas or Australia, so there were limits; but where would she be considered safe? The next village over was obviously not sufficient, but would the next, or the next? The worst part of the whole business was the uncertainty. Would she always be looking over her shoulder, for the rest of her life?

Worst of all was the news Lucy brought the first day.

Lucy said, "Miss Jane, I went through the Master's bedroom on the way looking to see if there was anything useful we could take."

Jane looked at her critically, mostly out of deeply ingrained habit; but then decided a little bit of thievery would not have been out of order. Now was the time to start thinking differently than she had. She was no longer Miss Jane Bennet the gentlewoman, nor Miss Gardiner the governess. She was now responsible for her charges, and in a difficult situation. If Lucy found anything useful the masters had left behind, Jane would think nothing of taking it.

Lucy continued, "I did not find anything of any value, but I did find these in the fireplace."

Jane gasped in surprise to see the remains of three letters, all mostly burned, and completely indecipherable. She could get almost nothing out of the letters, except that at least one and maybe two were from Kent, and what she could see was written in Lizzy's hand. There were a few disconnected words here and there, and oddly enough, references to both Charlotte and Mr. Darcy in the same paragraph. How odd! Other than that, she could not make heads or tails of it. Who could possibly be so cruel as to burn the governess's letters? It was in every way impossible to fathom, but eventually Jane just accepted that anyone who could abandon their children without a word must be without any redeeming characteristics whatsoever. This was just one more malicious act. She would be in contact with Lizzy soon enough, and it was still more than three months until the first of their sister's babes were to arrive. She had time.

* * *

The first day's travel had taken them a good 50 miles to the west, where she found out the difficulties of securing proper lodging. Even given more coin than she actually had, the only inn the village possessed only had a single room. With younger charges, it would have been easy enough. They would all just share the same room. With Martin at his age though, that did not seem to be something that she could allow, unless she became more desperate than she was so far. She could see that over the next few days, she would need to answer the obvious questions at least in her mind so she need not fret with every twist and turn. Martin and Mathew felt well enough to brave a night in the common room by the banked fire, and the innkeeper seemed an honest sort of man, so that was the way of it.

The next day, before boarding another coach taking them farther west, Jane had a discussion with the children.

"Children, I think it important for you to know what has happened. There is no easy way to say it! Your parents have abandoned you, and you are very unlikely to ever see them again. You are stuck with me for the duration."

Amelia looked carefully at her, and said so quietly she had to stretch to hear, "We like you better anyway, Miss Jane."

Jane thought she should probably at least chastise the child for her obvious disrespect of her parents, but considering what said parents had done, she thought they were not really due any respect whatsoever. If Amelia was ready to get on with the rest of her life; who was Jane to criticise.

Jane said, "You need not fear. I have taken care of you these five months, and I will take care of you until you are grown, but there are things you need to know… Important things"

Jane felt that Amelia was much too young to be engaged in this type of discussion, but she believed that with the child's fate in her hands, she really could not sugarcoat the truth. There may be difficulties ahead, and now was as good a time as any for Amelia to start getting used to the idea. The older boys were certainly old enough to understand what was happening and be useful; although Jane certainly did not discount Amelia.

"Your parents left debts behind… Serious debts. There will be those who may wish to find us and cause us harm, but I know not how hard they will look. We need to make ourselves _difficult_ to find. If someone looks long enough, they will find us; but I want to at least make it difficult."

Matthew looked as if this were some big adventure he was just itching to write down, and Martin looked like a boy trying to be the man he felt like he needed to be. Martin asked, "Just how difficult do we need to make it?"

Jane thought that she would need all the help she could get, so there was little point in trying to hide any of the truth from the boys. "I don't know. This is all as new to me as it is to you, and a fortnight ago I found it difficult to think ill of just about anybody. Now we will need to be clever, and just do our best."

Matthew asked, "What are we to do?"

Janet had hours in the coach to think about it, and even though she did not really know all that she would have to do, some of it seemed rather obvious. She was not a woman that was well-suited to skulking about secretively, but be that as it may, that was what was required.

Jane looked at each of the children in turn, before saying, "When we get where we are going, you will become Bennet's. Your previous surname is never to be spoken aloud from today… Ever"

The children looked at her with surprise, but she could see all of them thinking it through, and even Amelia seeing the wisdom of that approach. All nodded their heads silently in agreement, although they were still perplexed.

Martin asked the obvious question, "Why not Gardiner, like you?"

Janet had momentarily forgotten her previous deception, but thought the children deserved an explanation. She replied, "My name is not really Gardiner. That is my mother's name I adopted when I sought employment, although the whole thing seems rather ridiculous now. Most of my life, I have been Jane Bennet, and when we arrive, I will return to being Jane Bennet. You are to be my adopted nieces and nephews."

Satisfied with that part of the agreement, Jane added, "Some may wish to follow us, and we need to think like animals being chased. We need to leave almost no trail in the direction we actually plan to go, and a very obvious trail in the wrong direction. We will not be going straight to our destination, but in many directions, until we believe we have scrambled our scent enough to be difficult to follow. I do not really know the best way to do this, so we will have to be prepared to think lightly on our feet."

Jane added, "Until we get at least 100 miles from here, I do not want to use the Bennet name. In fact, every morning we shall make up a new set of names, and use those to try to confuse our followers."

Amelia looked like she thought this would be the most fun game ever. The boys looked like they understood the seriousness of the situation a bit more, but they were understanding and ready to do their part.

* * *

The next fortnight give Jane Bennet a little bit of a lesson in how the world works, and it turned out that fortune favored her in her associations. Not knowing any better way to go about it, she simply tried to leave rumors, innuendo and breadcrumbs pointing west, while after a couple of days, the party went north, then east, then north a bit more, and almost in a circle before preparing to pivot to her ultimate direction. Like her sister before her, she found that once she dressed herself as someone of the working classes, she was accepted readily enough, and with kindness by most. There were to be the exception such as the oily parson, and she was no longer under any illusions that there could not be worse out there, but she had to keep moving, and everyone had to remain vigilant.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to get rides on farm carts, grain wagons, and with any of the other men who made their trade moving goods from one place to another. She was never quite certain whether the men provided transportation because of the pennies or shillings she was willing to pay them, for the chance to have a beautiful woman ride with them for a few hours, or because she was still the nicest and most amiable woman in England, or just because almost nobody was really a match for the combined powers of Jane and Amelia Bennet. Sometimes they would stay in and inn, sometimes it was by the fire in a farmhouse, occasionally even a bed of straw in the barn.

Bit by bit, Jane finally began to be comfortable that she had left behind no trail that could readily be followed. In some of the first few stops, she worked with Amelia and Lucy to loudly spread rumors of her westward journey, even going so far as to tell one or two village gossips in great detail the name of the village they were going to in the west, and their assumed surname. They were perhaps even going to the Americas, but first they needed to go visit her aunt in Hatfield. She wasn't sure why she did that, but she was sure that nobody except her sisters would understand the reference to the village, or the surname of one of their childhood friends.

* * *

On the fifth day out, when they had gradually started turning back towards the east, she learned about the Royal Mail coaches, a few weeks before her sister Lizzy would learn the same lesson. They traveled at night, did not stop for comfort or food or rest, but covered 100 miles every night. The fare was reasonable, and considering she could move 100 miles for around the same cost is sleeping for the evening, her course was set. It was to be the mail coach at night, with Jane, Lucy, Martin and Matthew taking turns on the outside if necessary; and then either moving slowly the same direction during the day, or trying to find another coach. She still felt the need to change direction periodically and engage in any other subterfuge her and Amelia could think of, but gradually they started moving in the direction she wished to go. She was not in the least concerned that it took her a month to do a se'nnight's worth of travel, if it was difficult for anybody to follow her.

When she purchased the first ticket going east, Martin asked the obvious question, "Miss Jane, now that we are to make some speed, where exactly are we to live?"

Jane had given the matter considerable thought during the first se'nnight of the journey they had made so far. She had plenty of time, sitting in coaches, sitting on farm carts, or sitting around waiting for other transportation. She and Lucy were both dressed in plain clothing, and took turns on the top of stages when that was to be their mode of transportation. They agreed that they would each spend half the night outside on the mail coaches, and the burden was shared appropriately. Martin and Matthew were both eager to take their turn outside, and Jane reluctantly agreed. The boys thought it was a great thrill… for the first hour.

When she thought of all of the things that she could do with her three new charges, none were ideal. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were the nicest people in the world, but they had four children of their own to raise. She dearly hoped that Lizzy had been successful with her employer in Kent working out a way for the two of them to live with the two children they planned to adopt from their sisters, but Lizzy certainly had not worked out how to handle five children.

In the end, the decision was simple, obvious, and seemingly as inevitable as the tides. Apparently, it was time for Jane Bennet to grow up and take her place in the world.

"We are going home children. We are going to Longbourn."


	38. No Luck at All – June 3 1812

A/N: The next two chapters are quite large, and I think… well, I won't say it. Just enjoy them.

* * *

 **One Fortnight!**

Fitzwilliam Darcy thought that perhaps if it weren't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all. He had been stuck in Hertfordshire for a full fortnight.

His streak of bad fortune started when he left his townhouse in London the day after learning about Wickham and the missing Gardiners. Georgiana wished to take up residence at Netherfield, and Darcy was beginning to feel that he should just accept any direction he got from the women in his life… at least he should if he ever _had_ any women in his life except Georgiana. Since he had just taken over the lease on Netherfield and was now responsible for it, he obviously needed to go there to look the place over and take any actions necessary for its maintenance. He would assign any necessary tasks then go to Pemberley to await the Gardiners.

It seemed like such a simple plan! _Go to Netherfield… Spend a few days… Examine the estate… Assign a few tasks… Continue to his own estate. So simple! So easy! Business as usual!_

He noticed rolling thunder clouds as he left London, and while he did not especially like the look of them, he was not overly concerned. He was not a man to be intimidated by a little bit of rain. By the time he had made it a quarter of the way to Meryton, he was becoming worried. The rain was coming down hard enough that he was seriously considering either turning back to his townhouse, or stopping to let the weather clear. By the time he was three quarters of the way to Meryton, he was _very_ concerned not only about Georgiana's and his own safety in the carriage, but also about the condition of the estate he had just leased. It had been thoroughly ignored for nearly half a year, so who knew how well it would manage the unusually heavy rain. Bingley was not the most diligent of masters.

By the time he made it all the way to Meryton, things were beginning to look quite bleak. There was flooding at Netherfield, and he barely managed to make it into the house before the carriage was inundated crossing one of the rising creeks. After a night of unrelenting rainfall, the next morning looked even worse.

The next fortnight was a nightmare. Almost incessant rain kept him either on his horse riding around his estate trying to hire men, shoring up the worst of the damage, and making sure that his tenants did not get washed down into the sea. The rain let up a bit on the third day, both Darcy with every servant and workman he could find to hire were nearly exhausted, but there was still extensive damage, and the rain was still coming. If steps were not taken, the damage would become even worse.

On the fourth day of rain, as he was riding the border between Netherfield and Longbourn, he noticed that almost nothing was being done at Longbourn, and whatever was being done was being done haphazardly at best. There were several creeks threatening to damage tenant's homes, with nobody taking the slightest effort to stop them. In fact, one home seemed to be completely destroyed already. The tenants did not know what to do, and the master was apparently still ensconced in his library with his brandy, or maybe he was dead for all Darcy knew.

With a mighty curse and a great many words so bad he doubted that his cousin the Colonel even knew them, followed by a vigorous shaking of his fist at the sky, he resignedly rode his horse over into Longbourn. There he simply did what needed to be done. Another three days showed that not only was the master absent, but he had not done even the most basic of preparations for inclement weather. Most of the damage done to both estates was entirely preventable.

On the eighth day, a fire started in one of the larger buildings at Lucas Lodge, leaving three families without a home. Sir William at least appeared to be actively involved in his own estate, although he was not the most knowledgeable master that ever lived. Once again, Darcy simply did what was necessary, housing some of the tenants at Netherfield, while he assisted Sir William with obtaining alternate arrangements. None of it was particularly complex for a master of a great estate such as Pemberley, or even a mediocre manager of a small estate, but everything was just one more thing; and it was exhausting.

Darcy was just beginning to wonder if it was possible to have hordes of locusts fall upon him, or if perhaps termites might have destroyed Netherfield or maybe the French had landed on the shores of England while he was thus occupied.

By the time everything was reasonably under control, he had been on his horse, or leading men, or hiring carriages and carters, or doing his best to calm Sir Lucas down, or all of the other myriad things necessary to have his leased estate back in good condition, and he was exhausted.

Georgianna turned out to be the perfect hostess. She took the deluge of tenants, hired workmen, displaced women, noisy children, and everything else that went along with it as if she were born to the task. When he thought about it, she actually was born to the task, so he didn't know why he was so surprised. Perhaps he should just expect more of her. Perhaps he should always have expected more of her. That would require some more thought at a later date.

Finally everything was once again as it should be. Georgianna was perfectly well in control of Netherfield. She had a good steward, a good steward's assistant, over a dozen servants, and she was shooing him out the door towards Pemberley. He tried to make a good-faith effort to at least appear like he wasn't ready to run away as quickly as possible, but he was not fooling her in the least. He thought about visiting the Bennets in Longbourn, but he was just not up to the task. Let them deal with their own issues, or at least the ones occurring _inside_ their home.

* * *

Three days later at Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy looked in the mirror along with his valet, and thought he looked like a schoolboy preparing for his first ball. The master of a great estate did _not_ fidget, but he had to admit that what he was doing would look to the untrained observer a lot like it. His meeting with the Gardiners had been arranged for that afternoon. He had invited them to Pemberley, but they demurred until they had a chance to meet the young man. Like hostile emissaries, they preferred to meet on neutral ground, so they were to meet at the Rose and Crown in Lambton for tea.

Five miles on horseback were just enough to settle his nerves down a bit. Darcy always settled down when he was on the back of a good horse, and he thought a bit of calmness was required. He arrived in good time, and a serving woman showed him to the back room.

With a polite bow, he introduced himself, "Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner. I think you for taking the time to meet with me."

Mr. Gardiner was a middle-aged man, maybe a dozen years older than Darcy. He was probably handsome in his youth, and looked like he took care of himself. Darcy recognized Madeline Gardiner from his youth. Her father had been well known in Lambton, and Darcy had known her slightly. She was maybe half a dozen years older than him, and time had been kind to her. She was however, looking at him much as he imagined a cat looked at a mouse that was not necessarily to her liking; but she couldn't just let it go on principle. She was not kindly disposed towards his family, but he hoped she would at least give him a chance.

Darcy was practically jumping out of his skin with the desire to make his case, but wisely decided that he could at least show himself to be a gentleman possessed of the minimal manners required for polite society, so he sat down and chatted with the Gardiners for a half-hour while they had tea and biscuits. At first he thought that Elizabeth Bennet would be proud of him… sitting there making idle conversation for that long. He was not a man who performed well in idle conversation. Then the absurdity of the thought struck him. He was proud of his ability to perform the most basic skill of polite society. Perhaps he should not let his chest get too puffed up after all.

Over the course of the half-hour, he noticed that Mr. Gardiner had a bit of an ironic sense of humor, and that Mrs. Gardiner was watching him intently. Whether it was the look of a cat that had decided the mouse was worth pouncing or not was yet to be determined. Mr. Gardiner turned out to be quite knowledgeable about books, and Darcy heartily recommended his favorite bookstores in the area. Talk turned to fishing, and Darcy asked Mr. Gardiner to do him the great service of thinning out the herd in his trout stream, which was quite overrun. Mr. Gardiner seemed surprised at the offer, but owned that he just _might_ be able to be of be of some service. Darcy thought this might be progress, and agreed to loan the man tackle and show him the best spots.

Finally, talk was just about to turn to the _real_ topic of the evening, which Darcy was both anxious and nervous about. He was asking a lot, and while Mr. Gardiner had apparently decided he was reasonable company; that would be for naught if his wife did not agree. Darcy thought perhaps he had learned one thing during the course of the discussion thus far. Mr. Gardiner looked to his wife for her opinion on just about anything connected with the Darcys, and it would clearly be that lady's opinion that held sway.

Finally, he took a deep breath, and began, "Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner. I am sure you are wondering why I asked to meet with you."

At this point, with the crux of the afternoon upon them, Mrs. Gardiner took the lead, and answered, "Yes Mr. Darcy, we must admit to being curious… and… cautious."

Darcy replied, "Of course! I expected no less. Mrs. Gardiner. May I speak plainly?"

"I wish you would."

Darcy gathered his thoughts and said, "We have a past history Mrs. Gardiner, from when you were Miss Madeline Lewis. We both know that, and we are dancing around the fact, are we not?"

Mrs. Gardiner looked more carefully at the young man, trying to gauge what he was all about, and answered, "Yes, we do, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy looked her directly in the eyes, and said, "Mrs. Gardiner, I am afraid my family owes you an apology, and I would imagine some restitution. I do not know _precisely_ which offense George Wickham committed against you or one of your own, but I can surmise, and I believe my father did not do his duty. If there is something within my power to do at this late date, I will do it. I know some offenses cannot be abrogated, and some damage cannot be undone, but what can be done I will do."

She looked at him with a touch of anger and asked, "Why so late to the game Mr. Darcy. Is there something else you want?"

Darcy could see that his fate, and in fact his sense of honor may hinge on the next thing he said, so he thought carefully before replying, "I only learned of this a few weeks ago Mrs. Gardiner. You are correct that I also want something from you, but you will just have to take my word that had I known sooner, the offer would have been made sooner."

Mrs. Gardiner looked critically at the man in front of her, biting on her lower lip as she thought about it. She had no particular reason to distrust _this particular_ Darcy, but she had no reason to trust him either. She needed to know more.

She asked, "And have you done anything about the miscreant, Mr. Darcy. You have had many years to do so."

Darcy looked at her and felt the weight of her stare. He decided nothing short of absolute candor would do for the woman, and he strongly suspected she would be able to detect anything short of the mark. He replied, "Much to my shame, Mrs. Gardiner I did not, and he has done even more damage. By the time I had come to a realization of what my duty was, it was too late. Your brother in law Mr. Bennet finally performed the office when he committed one offense too many. I was finally resolved to deal with him once and for all, when I learned of his death. I am afraid my efforts were too little, too late Mrs. Gardiner."

Mrs. Gardiner looked at Darcy, somewhat impressed by at least his candor, and his seeming willingness to do what was right; if not his timeliness. She asked what she thought might be the key question, "What brought this change in heart upon you Mr. Darcy. You have known about Wickham for many years?"

Darcy thought carefully, and said, "I believe you probably know Mrs. Gardiner, at least in broad outlines, but let me say it whole for you. I have been a selfish being all my life. Half a year ago, I was no better than my father at performing my duty towards those around me; both as master and simply as a man. It took something extraordinary to shake me out of my self‑importance; _to teach me my own insignificance_."

Mrs. Gardiner asked, "And so you admit you were wrong?"

Darcy replied, "Utterly and completely, on so many things. But I _am_ learning, and I wish to make amends."

Mrs. Gardiner watched him carefully, and asked, "What is it you _really_ want Mr. Darcy? You went to some trouble to find us, and you could have made that offer more conveniently in a week. I cannot imagine making amends for an offense more than a decade old struck you as so urgent. What do you seek from us?"

Darcy looked at her carefully and said, "Yours are not my only debts Mrs. Gardiner. I have other reproofs to attend to. I am hoping you can tell me where your nieces are."

Madeline Gardiner prided herself on her cleverness and quickness of wit, her ability to judge characters, and her ability to keep up with any situation. For once though, she was caught completely off guard. This was altogether unexpected, although as she looked even more intently at the Master of Pemberley in front of her, she reflected, perhaps a bit late in the day that she well should have. She looked briefly to her husband, and could see that he had not quite caught up with her yet, but that was fine. He would be along soon enough.

Locking eyes on Darcy in a way that would not allow him to look away no matter what he did, she asked softly what was now to her, the perfectly obvious question, " _Which one, Mr. Darcy?_ "

Darcy was in no doubt as to her meaning. For once in his life, he was perfectly in tune in a conversation with a woman. There was no ambiguity about anything, said or unsaid. Mrs. Gardiner looked as if she understood him down to his toes. He answered softly, "Miss Elizabeth."

* * *

Whatever Madeline Gardiner or Fitzwilliam Darcy would have said to each other next without interruption might never be known, as there was a knock on the door just as Darcy finished his revelation. Mr. Gardiner had been looking intently at his wife for some moments, and finally, perhaps a little bit late, reacted to a raised eyebrow she sent him with a nod of understanding. So much about the young man's behavior now made perfect sense, and with his behavior well within the normal bounds of a man in love, Mr. Gardiner was back on solid footing.

At that moment, the serving woman, unaware of the tension in the room, brought in another pot of tea and some more biscuits, and said, "Mr. Gardiner, the post has just come for you. I thought you might want it straightaway."

Mr. Gardiner replied, "Thank you my dear, I appreciate it."

Darcy, happy to have a bit of reprieve from Mrs. Gardiner, said, "Perhaps you would like to peruse your letters, Mr. Gardiner. I know how anxious you must be. I could leave you and come back later."

Mr. Gardiner laughed and said, "Nor so fast, Mr. Darcy. I suspect you are trying to escape my wife's scrutiny, but it will not be so easy. I would appreciate it if you give me a moment to just glance at who they are from."

Darcy replied, "Of course, sir.", and then just to have a small distraction, he asked the serving woman, "Hannah, is your brother well?"

Happy to be noticed, Hannah replied, "He is very well sir. Have you had time to look at the roses he has been working on?"

Darcy replied, "Not yet, but I shall with pleasure."

He may have talked more about his gardens, but he heard a gasp of surprise from Mr. Gardiner. He looked over to see the older man looking extremely worried, as he handed a recently opened letter to his wife. Darcy watched in growing alarm as Mrs. Gardiner read the letter, and her face fell precipitously, just as her husband's did. This was clearly distressing news that did not require a stranger's presence.

Seeing the look on Mrs. Gardiner's face, he said, "Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner. I can see that you have important news, so I shall leave you to deal with it."

Before he could stand up, Mrs. Gardiner held up a hand to stop him, and said, "A moment, Mr. Darcy."

He sat back down, and looked at them curiously. Mrs. Gardiner's eyes were back on him intently once again. He judged she was probably trying to make some type of judgement. Glancing at Mr. Gardiner, he saw that he was watching Darcy, but was watching his wife even more intently.

Mrs. Gardiner asked, "Mr. Darcy, _why exactly_ are you looking for my nieces, aside from the obvious?"

Darcy replied immediately, "I have wronged them Mrs. Gardiner. This was not George Wickham's offense alone. I played a part. The fault was mine, and so must the remedy be, but I can do nothing if I cannot find them."

Mrs. Gardiner, still uncertain, but slowly becoming more comfortable with the young man asked, "When was the last time you saw one of them?"

Darcy answered immediately, "Miss Elizabeth was in Kent at the beginning of May near my aunt's estate." Darcy hesitated before continuing with, "I saw here there momentarily, and tried to get her to talk to me, but she refused, and left the county abruptly."

Mrs. Gardiner asked the all-important question, "Why, Mr. Darcy?"

Once again on the precipice, Darcy answered, "She fears me?"

Mr. Gardiner asked, "Does she have any reason to fear you Mr. Darcy? You are asking us to trust you!"

Darcy answered candidly, "Yes, she had ample reason. Perhaps she still does, but I will not allow any harm to come to any of the Bennet sisters that I can prevent."

Madeline Gardiner looked at him carefully, then apparently held a silent conversation with her husband without any words needing to be exchanged. Darcy wondered if he would ever enjoy that kind of rapport, or would he always be just another half‑step off as he had been for the past months.

Finally, Mrs. Gardiner said, "I am going to trust you Mr. Darcy. This letter is from Jane. It is dated the 15th of May, and the situation in her household seems untenable. She does not seem like the kind of girl who would abandon her charges, but her letter is distressing."

Without another word, she handed the letter over to Darcy, who read it quickly. He noted as he went, "It appears her last letter from Miss Elizabeth was before she left Kent. Miss Jane probably doesn't even know Miss Elizabeth is not in Kent anymore."

Mrs. Gardiner asked, "Do you know where Elizabeth went, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy answered, "I am afraid not, Mrs. Gardiner. I presume you do not know either?"

Mr. Gardiner answered, "We probably have a letter from her awaiting us in town. The butler only forwarded this because it seemed urgent."

Darcy glanced through the letter again, and said, "Please. Where is she, Mrs. Gardiner. I promise I will find her and I will do my best to make this right."

Mrs. Gardiner replied, "She is in Cornwall, Mr. Darcy. I am afraid she is 400 miles from here."

Darcy stood immediately and said, "There is not a moment to lose. I can be there in 3 days?"

Mr. Gardiner said, "That is impossible Mr. Darcy. It cannot be done."

Darcy simply replied, "Not impossible for me, sir. I will leave you now. I thank you for your trust, and I will not let you down."

Now full of energy and a need to be in motion again, he bowed and started walking briskly to the door. Just before he reached it, Mrs. Gardiner said, "Mr. Darcy!"

He turned back towards her, and she continued, "Bring me my niece, Mr. Darcy."

He replied, "If it can be done, I shall do it Mrs. Gardiner. You may depend on it."


	39. Fists of Iron – June 18 1812

**One Month!**

Fitzwilliam Darcy walked through the town a weary and defeated man. One Month! He had missed Jane Bennet by a full month. He was not only tired, but spending his remaining energy berating himself, although he could not think of a single thing he could have done differently once he took over Netherfield.

Whatever calamity was to befall Jane Bennet had already happened. The story was all over town. Miss Bennet had left the county with three children in tow, after her employers were carted off to prison. Rumor had it that Miss Bennet was bound for the Canadas, although he doubted that very much. What a debacle! He doubted that he would get any useful information out of the current residents of the house, but he had to start somewhere.

As he approached the house wearily, he saw the strangest sight. An unknown tradeswoman had apparently just finished talking to the butler, and Darcy watched her stalk away in anger, frustration, or some other strong emotion based on her furiously stomping pace. He couldn't see the woman clearly, but it was obvious something in the house upset her greatly. Most likely, she was owed a debt by the previous master that was never to be paid, or perhaps she or someone she knew had been imposed on, or perhaps the new master was no better than the last. Either way, it was obvious that the woman was thoroughly upset.

He watched curiously as the woman walked away from the house around a hundred yards, stalked angrily up to a nearby tree, and started screaming and beating her fists against it. Apparently Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley but the most ignorant man of his acquaintance regarding women, _could_ read emotion if it was strong enough. This stray thought was going through his head as he found himself unaccountably halfway between his horse and the young woman without a conscious thought. Perhaps some part of his mind worked faster than others, as he had somehow determined he was _not_ going to let this stranger injure herself. He also surmised that charging such a furious woman with a horse probably would not do much to calm her down.

A trice more put him right behind the woman, and a glance showed him that there was real danger. Her hands showed the normal scrapes and scratches of one who made her living with her hands, but not the deep callouses of one who had done it for a long time. She probably wouldn't mortally wound herself, but her hands were going to be scratched, bleeding and sore for some days, and he, for no reason he could name, just _could not_ allow another unknown woman to suffer yet another injury right in front of his eyes, even if self‑inflicted.

Darcy was a calm and cautious man, always thinking through every action, so he was quite surprised to find himself doing the unthinkable. He simply reached around the unknown woman, grabbed her arms, and pulled her towards him while saying as calmly and gently as he could, "Please madam! Please! I can see you are distressed, but I pray do not do yourself further injury. Allow me to assist you in whatever way I can."

The tradeswoman stopped screaming and struggling and stood stock still. Astonishingly, she did not transfer her screaming to him. He would not have been shocked at such an outcome, and once he thought about it; he more than half expected it. In fact, he would have found her berating and beating on his chest preferable to her injuring herself further, but otherwise probably not very much to his liking.

Now he found himself in a quandary. He was still holding the woman, unable to think or move to release her, even though all rules of civil society and even basic respect for her person demanded he do so at once. Since she looked to have herself under some regulation, he started to let go of her arms, adding in his most sincere voice and manor, "I beg your pardon madam! I had no leave to accost you in this manner, but I must confess I did not think. I just could not see you injure yourself further. I will release you now."

Expecting the verbal thrashing he no doubt deserved and would be receiving in a moment, he heard the unknown woman say the strangest thing.

"Mr. Darcy! What are you doing here?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy's shock was complete. He could not move. He could not speak. He could not think. He could not process the incomprehensible fact that he knew the voice now wrapped in his arms wearing a tradeswoman's dress.

Finally, after what seemed like hours while the woman waited patiently, or perhaps it was only seconds, he answered.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth Bennet sighed in exasperation at the tricks fate was playing on her. First she was saddled with the worst sister in the world. Then she came looking for the best sister in the world who was in a distressing situation, only to miss her by a full month. Now she was unaccountably standing with blood running off of her hands and ruining her best dress, being held in the arms of none other than Mr. Darcy; who had apparently been stalking her.

She couldn't process any of it. She could not think of the enormity of the tangled web that had placed them here together in this small glade in front of this house where her sister had apparently gone mad. She couldn't even begin to think about why she wasn't clawing at his hands or chastising the man for accosting her.

Finally, with a deep breath, she tackled the smallest and most innocuous piece of the puzzle she could.

"Elizabeth?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed. He had been caught out.

"My pardon, I meant Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth, still constitutionally unable to process anything more pressing than the most minor breaches of propriety carried on as if this were a normal parlor conversation.

"Mr. Darcy. As you can see, I no longer live the life of a gentlewoman, and truth be told, I don't really miss it. Also, since I seem to be currently wrapped in your arms, I think a minor breach in address is not to be worried over. Nobody calls me Miss Bennet anymore so I don't mind. I'm just curious what would make a man such as you, so prim and proper at all times, make such a slip."

Darcy answered without really thinking, "I apologize Miss Elizabeth. It's simply how I've thought of you these last months as I searched for you and your sisters. It just slipped out."

Elizabeth thought about that, with some confusion. She understood that the man felt some culpability in Mary's downfall, but she considered that entire issue to be settled with her message to him via Charlotte in Kent. She hadn't thought about him very much after that. Her new life consumed her, and her old life in Longbourn was fading into something like distant memories. They were still painful memories, but they were becoming more distant. Now Jane was missing, and Mr. Darcy was back from the past. Life was certainly spinning some kind of strange spell.

Darcy was torn. He thought he should release her before she insisted on it, but he also thought this might be the last time in his life he might hold her in his arms, and was loathe to let the small intimacy end. Finally, he decided if he wanted any chance at all, he would need to start acting more the gentleman.

He released her and stepped back a pace, and said, "Miss Elizabeth, I apologize for accosting you. I'm afraid I saw a woman in clear distress about to injure herself and I…"

When he paused, Elizabeth prompted, "Yes"

Darcy decided to come clean, and said, "I did not think, but I hope my first gut reaction this time was nobler than it was when your sister Mary ran into me at the ball."

Elizabeth whirled around and looked at the man. This was definitely _not_ the forbidding and formidable master of Pemberley she was familiar with. The man in front of her looked like he had not eaten properly in months, had not slept properly in days, and hadn't seen his valet in years. His normally fastidious dress was sloppy and hastily arranged. He had obviously tied his own cravat, and he did not possess the skill to do it properly. His suit was travel worn and dirty as if he had been in it for days. His face held a look that was… haunted?

She gasped in surprise, and asked, "Mr. Darcy, what has happened to you?"

Darcy looked down at his boots, which were as disreputable as the rest of his appearance and decided candor was his only chance of success; although, success at _what_ was yet to be determined. He did not want to have this conversation standing in the park though.

"Miss Elizabeth, I am exhausted. I rode here from Pemberley in less than four days. I am hungry. I imagine you just got the same distressing news about your sister that I have. There is nothing we can do to find her today. Would you do me the honor of having supper with me at the inn? I will also arrange for a room for you and engage a maid."

Elizabeth laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion, but for some reason she could not just let it go. She also was frightfully short of coin if she was to stay for a few days to try to find out more about Jane, and the clock in Lydia's belly was still ticking. Perhaps, taking a little bit of charity from Mr. Darcy would not kill her.

As usual in this conversation, she addressed the smallest and least important part of it first.

She replied, "Mr. Darcy, I do not need a maid. I no longer use one in my new station in life, but…"

She paused a moment before continuing, "… but, I will accept your generous offer of a room. I… did not come prepared for an extended stay, I'm afraid."

Darcy replied, also with the easiest thing in the world for him, "Fear not, Miss Elizabeth. I will get you safely back to your home."

She replied, "I thank you, sir."

Working up a bit of nerve, he asked, "Would it be too much to ask where your home is? I do not mean to pry, but I must admit to being curious."

With the suggestion of supper meeting her fancy, as she was famished herself, Elizabeth nodded a suggestion that they walk towards the inn for the promised meal. Before she answered that one though, she asked, "Are you certain you wish to have a meal alone with me Mr. Darcy. I am uncertain how the first circles would react to such a radical act with such a scandalized family."

Darcy answered, "We will be in a public room Miss Bennet, so your reputation will not be harmed. Mine will not either, but I don't really care about such things these days anyway. If you can stand me for the length of a meal, I will consider it an honor."

The pair walked the few more steps to Darcy's exhausted horse. As he took up the reins and started leading the mount back towards the inn, he looked over at Elizabeth. He had to admit that she looked even more enchanting in tradeswoman's garb than she had as a gentlewoman, or maybe she just looked more enchanting in the flesh than in the memories he had been subsisting on for months. He was determined he would not let her escape again. He was a man of implacable stubbornness when it was called for, but it would be much more convenient if he could at least fix her location to somewhere more specific than _England_.

He asked again as they started walking, "Are you avoiding telling me where you live now, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked at him, and did not find the man she had so vehemently disliked before. She still had no idea what drove this man so, but he was at least… different… and to be honest, the worn out haggard Darcy in front of her was more interesting than the puffed-up dandy she knew in Hertfordshire. Perhaps it was time to give him a chance. Perhaps if she could get over her fear of him, and maybe even her prejudice, triggered by that first assault on her pride, she might find that they could at least be… she knew not what… perhaps indifferent acquaintances, instead of two tomcats stuck in a bag.

She said, "I am not certain you would believe me if I told you sir."

She said this just as they reached the inn, and Darcy had to attend to the horse. A groom was dispatched to care for the animal, and Elizabeth noticed that Darcy took every attention to detail in instructing the groom for its care. Darcy seemed to hold a true affection for the beast, even though it was just a rented animal that would go back to its owner soon.

With that taken care of, Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and with just a slight hesitation, she took it and they entered the inn. Darcy was sorely tempted to ask for a private room, but wisely resisted. Now was not the time to try to impress the woman. She was still skittish, but she was at least talking to him now, so he judged in another few years he might even get her to smile at him.

He moved to a table as far from the other customers as they could get, and asked after food from a serving woman. She offered mutton and vegetables, which both parties agreed to without much thought, and he asked for the best wine she had as well.

While awaiting the food, he asked casually, "Is it not time to test my credulity Miss Elizabeth? You said I would not believe you, so now that the gauntlet has been thrown down, I accept the challenge. Do your worst, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth laughed a bit. She had forgotten entirely that not only was this the most arrogant and infuriating man she had ever met; he was also the one that had the cleverest conversations with her, and perhaps the only man she ever met who approved of her education. Not _everything_ at Netherfield had been unpleasant.

She laughed and said, "Prepare yourself for something shocking, Mr. Darcy. As you can see, I am now in trade and making my own living… in the book trade, no less."

Darcy laughed in his first bit of true levity in some time, and said, "I am not afraid of you. Books are not the least bit intimidating to me, nor is working for your bread. You may have noticed that I am no stranger to the taskmaster myself."

Elizabeth said, "Yes, I can remember your attention to business during my stay in Netherfield."

Darcy looked at her, correctly judging that she did not look on the days at Netherfield with any great fondness, and trying to keep the conversation from spiraling downward, or worse yet, moving on to any of the other residents at the time. He continued with, "To the best of my knowledge Miss Elizabeth, book work occurs all over England, even on the continent and probably in the Americas. I am afraid you have not narrowed down the location of your home in any useful way."

Elizabeth giggled at the ridiculousness of the conversation. What could possibly be more appropriate with a sister missing with three new charges in tow than an absurd conversation with Mr. Darcy? She was just beginning to get distracted with figures of how they were now to support four children, when she abruptly left that line of thought for another day and returned to her dinner partner.

"I will narrow it down for you Mr. Darcy. I have found a home at Wolcott's Books."

Darcy stared at her with his mouth open in astonishment, and Elizabeth had to admit she was enjoying the moment. She was missing the amusement of Samuel and the Frogs, but there was diversion to be had here from time to time.

Darcy finally recovered himself enough to ask, "I presume you mean the Wolcott's books in Kympton?"

"The very same"

"So I have been searching for you all over Southern England, while you were happily ensconced 10 miles from my estate?"

"I warned you it would be shocking, sir!"

Darcy started laughing, and once it started he just couldn't stop. Before long, both were both chortling uncontrollably, and when it was finally done, they both felt their burdens lightened just a bit, and they tucked into the food the serving woman brought. Both were tired. Both were hungry. Both had traveled 400 miles in around four days, and both were sorely disappointed that they had missed Jane Bennet by _a full month._


	40. After the Sherry – June 18 1812

By mutual agreement, Darcy and Elizabeth both avoided anything but the lightest of dinner conversation until the last of the apple pie had been consumed, the last of the milk had been drunk, and one last glass of sherry had been shared.

Both were nearly completely exhausted, but neither was willing to go to bed without some resolution to their current confused state, but neither knew quite how to proceed. Finally, it was Elizabeth who turned the conversation back to serious matters.

"Mr. Darcy. You still have not answered my very first question of the day."

Darcy tried to think back to what that was, and she prompted him with, "What are you doing here?"

Darcy looked at her intently, and said, "I am, and have been for some time, searching for you and your sisters."

Elizabeth only had one word of reply, " _Why_?"

Darcy started to speak, but before he really began, Elizabeth held up her hand to stay him for a moment and said, "Mr. Darcy. May we make an agreement?"

"Yes, of course"

"You should not agree to something before you know what it is, sir!"

Darcy looked at her carefully and said, "I told you Miss Elizabeth. I am not afraid of you. You will not ask anything of me that I will not agree to."

"Yes, but I may ask something that is very much not to your liking!"

Darcy looked at her carefully and answered honestly, "Whether it is to my liking or not, if you ask it of me, I will accept it."

Elizabeth now looked at him in confusion, wondering where this Mr. Darcy had come from, and what he had done with the Darcy she thought she knew.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy! You have been, by your own words, searching for my sisters and me for some time, and apparently at some expense. You must have something you wish to say. Here is my proposal. I should have let you say your piece in Kent, but to be honest, I was afraid of you. I still am a little. My courage used to rise to every occasion, but it has been sorely tested as of late. However, I will listen to what you have to say. I will not only listen, but I will hear you. Right here, right now, at this table, let us have no more secrets or misunderstandings or confusion. I will listen all the way through, but I would ask you to agree to speak all the way through. When we are done, we can part without fear or rancor to go about putting our lives back together. That is what I suggest, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy looked at her carefully, and said, "I will agree Miss Elizabeth, but some of it may be difficult to say or to hear."

Elizabeth returned the look for a moment, made a decision, and said, "I believe I no longer fear you Mr. Darcy. Say what you have to say, and I will listen."

Darcy went to make a start, then stopped in confusion to gather his thoughts, and finally said, "Have you ever spent months thinking about how to say something, only to find your thoughts jumbled when the moment comes Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth laughed and said, "You must know based on our past association that there is rarely any delay at all between what I think and what comes out of my mouth."

Darcy chuckled at this assessment, and said, "Well, I have been thinking about this for some time, and now I find I do not know how to begin."

Elizabeth suggested, "Just begin somewhere Mr. Darcy. It all must come out in the end, and I will accept it in any order. Go from beginning to end, or from least critical to most, or worst to best or from margin to story. I will follow. But Mr. Darcy…"

"Yes"

"I will have it all before we leave this table."

Darcy nodded his head in agreement, not in the least confident that he could say it all as it needed to be said. One moment he reasoned that this may be his last best chance to make a start at winning her favor, for there was no doubt in his mind that he was deeply in love with this woman and would not give her up without a fight. Another moment, he reasoned that he was a patient and implacable man, and she lived within his sphere of influence. He reasoned he may not win here tonight, but he could certainly lose. This was not a woman to be trifled with, but thoughts this muddled would do him no credit.

He cleared his throat and said, "May we agree that we both know the same bit of inadequate information about your sister, Miss Jane, and that tomorrow morning we will work together to piece together that happened to her, and work together to find her and return her safely; but we will defer all discussion about her fate until then?"

Elizabeth was beginning to think that Mr. Darcy had been looking diligently for the Bennet sisters for some time, but perhaps not _all_ with equal motivation, but she simply said, "Agreed"

Darcy gathered himself, and said, "Very well. I will start with news that you will find distressing. Are you aware that your sister Catherine has miscarried?"

Elizabeth said, "Yes, I am aware. My sister Lydia is in Kympton with the Wolcotts, and while she is quite possibly the stupidest and most selfish girl of my acquaintance, even she could not fail to tell me that, and even if she had failed, she came accompanied by the midwife that delivered me as a babe, so yes, I am aware."

Darcy was grateful to not be the one bearing the bad news for the first time.

"And are you aware that the man who imposed on at least one of the sisters and possibly both according to his claims; Mr. Wickham is dead… partially at your father's hands, although he ultimately died on a mishap on the way to the gallows."

Elizabeth answered, "Yes, I know! That reminds me Mr. Darcy, I believe I owe you an apology. I believed every word Mr. Wickham said about you, and I recall our last real conversation was about him, and it ended badly."

"Yes, I believe you were attempting to sketch my character in the middle of a ball."

Elizabeth looked chagrined and answered, "I am afraid you were right Mr. Darcy. The effort reflected credit on neither of us."

Darcy asked, "And are you still engaged in the attempt?"

Elizabeth replied, "No sir, I have given up the practice, once I learned how abominably ill I am at it. I shall leave that task to Mrs. Collins."

Darcy did not like the defeated look in her eyes, and replied, "I would ask you to resume the practice, at least for the evening."

"I shall try, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy continued, "Your sister Mary is still missing."

Elizabeth asked, "And have you been looking for her as well, Mr. Darcy?"

"I have"

Elizabeth looked back at him, and he could see her mouth twitching with the effort of refraining from asking him _why_ yet again, or perhaps asking more about Mary. She had agreed to his muddled timetable though, and would stand by her agreement.

Darcy at this point decided it was time to quit woolgathering.

"So I presume you would like me to answer your first question then?"

Elizabeth whispered, "Yes"

Darcy gathered himself, and said, "I have several reasons, Elizabeth. The first is that I wish to make amends."

"Amends? For what?"

Darcy looked at her critically and answered, "Much if not all of your troubles can be laid at my feet Elizabeth. I intend to try to repair the damage."

Elizabeth looked at him in stark confusion, and replied, "You are telling me that you believe one unkind remark at a ball caused the disintegration of my family. I'm sorry sir, but I believe you take too much upon yourself."

Darcy, undaunted, replied, "Your sister was mortified and humiliated, and I made it worse. I believe my unkind words were the last straw for her. Without them, she may not have fled, but that is not my only offense."

Elizabeth, having no idea what other offense he could possibly mean, said, "Mr. Darcy. Your remark to Mary was in fact rude and unkind, but it was not the first rude or unkind words you said to a Bennet sister. You did not see me flee the county when you said I was _tolerable I suppose but not handsome enough to tempt you_. You were arrogant and rude to everyone in the county Mr. Darcy. Mary was only one of many. You were only the last straw for Mary, but rudeness is not a crime."

Elizabeth paused for a moment, gathered her courage, and said, "Mary's flight is to be laid at my door more than yours Mr. Darcy. She was always the middle sister. Always left out. Jane and I had a very tight bond. Lydia and Kitty were inseparable. None of us made the slightest effort to truly act as sister to Mary, and my parents… well, I need not say more of them. Mary was my responsibility, and I failed her. Did you know she looked right at me after your assault on her, and _she was afraid of me_! She thought her own sister was not to be trusted. I could see her eyes. She thought I would add to her burden, not lessen it."

Elizabeth paused to take a breath, and continued, "No, Mr. Darcy, you need not take on more than your share of blame. Take what is your just due, but no more. I had eighteen years to help Mary. You had half a moment."

Darcy could hardly see that, but could also see little to be gained by trying to talk her out of this conviction. If Elizabeth truly felt that way, it would explain much of her apparently irrational behavior over the last half-year. He would be thinking about that the rest of the night.

"And how much of your youngest sisters' blame have you accounted to yourself Elizabeth?"

"Most of it sir. I had several years to check both of them, but never made the effort."

"You are not their parents"

"But I am their sister, and I failed them."

"Should not they be taking responsibility for their own actions?"

Her Elizabeth paused, and nodded in agreement. In her more rational moments, she wondered why she felt the need to take on the burdens of the world.

Darcy could see that she might be fixed in her belief, or she might rethink things, but either was beyond his ability to affect, so decided to set those issues aside for the moment.

"Let us not quibble over the lion's share of the blame Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps we both were wrong, and if so, we must both try our best to right it."

Elizabeth asked, "Are you truly set on this course, just because of a few rude remarks, sir?"

Darcy said, "I owe you an apology for that first remark Miss Elizabeth. It was not only insufferably rude and cruel, but it was factually incorrect. Once I really looked at you, I determined you are the most handsome woman of my acquaintance."

"Bygones, Mr. Darcy. I've long forgotten it, but I do thank you for the compliment. Let us say that your presence here and your efforts to find my missing sisters have evened the scales and think no more upon it. Is that your only offense sir?"

Darcy's shoulders tensed up, and he said, "Hardly. You know that Mr. Wickham grew up with me at Pemberley?"

"Yes, he told me that."

"I will not burden you with the long tale at this moment, but he is a most reprehensible man. Just before I met you at Meryton he tried to elope with my fifteen-year-old sister, just to get her dowry of £30,000. After I stopped him, I allowed him to roam away freely, even though I held enough vowels to send him to debtor's prison. I even left him in peace when I met him again in Meryton. So you see, Miss Bennet, all of your family's troubles can be traced back to me. My selfishness, my pride, my inaction."

Elizabeth thought to differ, and said, "Your desire to protect your sister, sir! That can hardly be considered a crime."

She could see that he might have his own streak of stubbornness, and the man would work out his conscience about Mr. Wickham in his own time and in his own way.

Elizabeth thought she could offer him at least some relief, and said, "You can rest a little easier on one point Mr. Darcy. It wasn't Mr. Wickham with Lydia. It was a colonel Miller that was father to the child I will be raising."

Darcy looked at her thoughtfully. It had never even occurred to him that Wickham wouldn't be at the center of all the world's ills. Just because he happened to miss one of the Bennet daughters did not absolve Darcy of very much guilt in the end though.

"Still, how much better would your family have withstood a single babe born on the wrong side of the blanket than two and a scandalously missing sister? I thank you for relieving my burden, but I still believe I carry most of the blame."

Elizabeth tried to puzzle out the actions and consequences, and asked, "Is that why you have been looking for us so diligently Mr. Darcy? To right a perceived wrong? To ease your conscience? To make amends?"

Darcy looked at her carefully, thinking about what to say next. The conversation had not gone to plan so far, not that he had anything approaching a workable plan in the first place.

"Partially Elizabeth"

It was not lost on Elizabeth that he had slipped into using her given name for about the third time in as many sentences. As he seemed to spend more and more time thinking about what he wanted to say, he was spending less time worrying about politeness and civility… which probably meant he was getting closer and closer to what he actually thought. She was not certain she wanted to know what was coming next.

She asked gently, "What else, Mr. Darcy?"

He said, so softly that she could barely hear it, "My self-respect. My standing in the world is of little import if my standing in my own regard does not measure up."

Even more gently, she said, "You have already done more than any other great man would do Mr. Darcy. I think you may safely put your conscience to bed and regain your self-esteem. If you would help me find my Jane, I would consider any perceived debt paid back ten times over."

Darcy replied, "Understand this Elizabeth. While I draw breath, I will continue to look until I have found all of the missing Bennet sisters."

Elizabeth could not understand the energy he made this declaration with. Something about this reaction was not making any sense at all. She almost missed what he said next.

In barely a whisper, as if he thought he was only thinking the thought instead of saying it, Darcy said, "I have business with the Bennet sisters that must be satisfied."

He had apparently not truly meant to say that, as he looked at her in alarm.

Elizabeth, looking shocked, said quietly, but with iron in her voice, " _Fitzwilliam, what have you done?_ "

Two points immediately occurred to Darcy, aside from the fact that he should learn to curb his tongue. The first was that Elizabeth had somehow learned his given name, and whether consciously or not, two were playing at the intimacy game now. The other was that she had asked exactly the same question, in exactly the same tone of voice his sister had. This woman was not however, to be denied as his sister was; and he doubted Georgiana would be easily denied again either. He decided the cat was truly out of the bag, and he must own to it all.

Darcy sighed, watched Elizabeth carefully, and said, "I have entailed Netherfield on the Bennet female line for one generation. I am acting as caretaker now, and my sister is currently resident, but one or more of you must go there as mistress sooner or later. Your mother and sisters will not starve in the hedgerows when your father dies."

Elizabeth was for once in her life, stunned beyond the ability to speak. While she had liked to avoid any comparisons to her sister Lydia, she had to admit they had one thing in common. Neither young lady was _ever_ at a loss for words. One sister generally made sense and the other usually did not, but neither was ever short of words… until this moment.

Elizabeth stared at this strange creature sitting across from the table from her. He looked a lot like Mr. Darcy. He spoke a lot like Mr. Darcy. He acted a lot like Mr. Darcy. But he was as strange a being as she had ever beheld. She could not in the least fathom what he was about. Nothing he did made sense any more. Nothing he said held together with any acceptable view of the world. Nothing he could say after this could possibly shock her.

She stared for him for what seemed like hours, trying to work him out, and finally said, "Fitzwilliam, that may be the most generous act I have ever witnessed… and the most puzzling. I believe you _must_ be leaving something out. There is a missing piece to this puzzle. I not only cannot sketch your character, but I cannot even outline it. I cannot make you out at all. Please, once and for all,  please, answer my first question. _Why_ _?"_

Darcy looked around at the corner he had painted himself into. There were walls on each side of him, and a growling tiger in front. He had through accident, unconscious design, conversational ineptitude, or perhaps simply Fortuna having one last jest with him; placed himself in a position where he had to answer with complete honesty. Nothing else would do. No half‑measure or half‑truth would suffice. Now it was time to throw the dice and see which face the goddess turned to him.

He looked at her earnestly and intensely and said, "Because I am in love with you Elizabeth Bennet. Passionately, uncontrollably, inevitably and unequivocally in love with you. By every facility I possess; my heart, my inclination, my reason, even my character, I am in love with you and I will never love another. I know not how I will ever win your regard, let alone your love, but I will fight for it until my dying breath."

He paused momentarily, looking at Elizabeth sitting in stunned silence, but clearly adding up all the pieces of the story in her mind to see if they made sense.

Darcy looked up at the ceiling momentarily, or perhaps he was just looking Fortuna full in the eye and decided if there was to be a contest between himself and the goddess, he would either prevail, or at least prove himself worthy.

Without another thought or glance he stood, kicked the stool away from the table, walked around to the other side, took a knee in front of Elizabeth, reached out and took her hand and started his last throw of the dice.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Love and light of my life. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? You need not answer today, or even anytime soon, but you must be aware that nothing short of your death or marrying another shall dissuade me from perusing you for as long as it takes to earn your regard and your love."

For the second time in one conversation, Elizabeth Bennet found that she had nothing to say. Not a thing… Absolutely nothing… Nothing whatsoever…

Finally, after an eternity of waiting which Darcy endured as his due, Elizabeth started speaking. In truth, she started speaking and stopped several times before she could form a complete sentence, or even a complete word or thought.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, I told you I would listen to everything you had to say, and that I would hear it, and I would understand it. I must admit that this notion is so far beyond what I bargained for, I hardly know how to even attend your avowal, let alone your question."

Darcy just awaited her judgment with patience. Now was not his time to talk. _Now as his time to listen_! He had made his wager with fate, and he would await her judgment, and accept it as his due.

After an eternity, Elizabeth finally said, "I will not refuse you Fitzwilliam, but I cannot accept you now either. It is too much. It is too soon. It is too big. I fear both of us only think we know the ghost of who the other person really is. We cannot base a life on half-truths. Know this sir! I will never marry except for the deepest of love, but at this time, I cannot predict if I will ever feel that for you or not. I quite despised you until very recently."

Darcy asked timidly, "How recently?"

Elizabeth looked at him with a look of total honesty and said, "About an hour ago."

Darcy just barely, with the greatest of mental efforts and the supreme iron will of the Master of Pemberley managed to refrain from jumping up and dancing around the room shouting, _"_ _Elizabeth Bennet does not despise me anymore_ _."_

Instead, he opted for the more reasonable course, and said, "I thank you for the chance Elizabeth. It is all I ask."

Elizabeth said, "I suppose it goes without saying that we will be leaving to search for Jane tomorrow as soon as we learn what can be ascertained here."

"Yes"

"And that you will deliver me safely to Kympton within the month?"

"Yes. I will deliver you anywhere you need to go, anytime you need to go there. No matter how you answer my heart's question Elizabeth, I will always be your friend and I will always do anything you ask."

"Even raise another man's child? That is a heavy burden Mr. Darcy."

"I have to admit, I am happy to learn it is _not_ George Wickham's child, but even his child I would gladly treat as my own, but understand this."

"Yes"

"If you do accept my suit; that will not be your last child."

Elizabeth smiled and said, "Should that come to pass, it would make me happy."

"Then let us retire. We have much to do on the morrow, and little time to do it."

"Let us"

As they got up to leave, Darcy creaking from the unaccustomed time on his knee, his heart was for the first time he could remember filled with Joy. _Elizabeth Bennet did not despise him anymore._ Fortune had indeed rewarded the bold.


	41. The Nervous Lion – June 10, 1812

_A/N: Updates on this site do not seem to be working correctly, so I hope you all got a chance to see the previous stealth chapters that did not appear at the top of the list. If you missed the updates with D &E, go back to chapter 37 which is where the problems with the notifications and updates started. I hope it is resolved soon. _

_Now that I'm sure you've all had your fill of D &E, how about a little Mary ;)_

 _P.S. This chapter puts the story over 100,000 words and it passed 100,000 hits last week [End Shameless Bragging]. I'm surprised at the length, but it_ _is_ _coming to a close. Another dozen chapters should do the trick._

 _Wade_

* * *

"You are fidgeting, Miss Little Lion!"

Mary startled at the unexpectedly strong words, and wondered how many times they had been repeated before she noticed. Wednesdays were a bit of a slow day for the Little Pride, and she had unexpected time on her hands. She could use that time to do something productive, or she could use it to brood. Apparently, the latter was her choice for the day, as she had no idea where the past hour or more had gone.

She looked over at her friend, who was staring at her, patiently awaiting a response, and said, "I'm not fidgeting, Madeline. I'm brooding. It is entirely different."

Her friend just laughed. For the first fortnight or so after her recovery from her long illness, Madeline Osborne had chattered like a magpie, talking nearly incessantly as if to make up for the months of silence. Mary had eventually learned to just treat her like a river running past, something that you would have to watch out for if it overran its banks, but otherwise did not demand that much attention. However, once the initial burst of chatter was out of the way, and Madeline settled down a bit, Mary found that she liked her new friend very much.

Madeline was far from recovered from her ordeal, but she was getting out and starting to pick up her share of the work, and it was clear that she would recover fully before very long. Once Madeline was up and getting about, Mary discovered that she was by far, the cleverest of the washerwomen. She reminded Mary of Lizzy when she really thought about it. Mary suspected if she ever left, Madeline would become the leader of the pride, although the other women had in truth been doing fine before Mary appeared.

Mary thought that Madeline was also too insightful by half for Mary's taste sometimes. She sometimes seemed to know a lot more about Mary than a few months' acquaintance should have given.

Madeline laughed and said, "You're splitting hairs. There is little to recommend one over the other."

Mary said, "There is little to recommend either one at all. Perhaps, we should do something useful instead."

With that, she started getting up to find something profitable to do, but her friend held up her hand to halt her, and said, "Maybe you should tell me what you're brooding about.

Mary was not to be lured into the conversation so easily, so she replied, "It is of no import, Madeline."

Madeline, also not one to be easily discouraged answered, "It's your sisters, isn't it?"

Mary looked around the room in confusion, so Madeline clarified, "I mean your _other_ sisters.", and then in almost a whisper, "Your _real_ sisters."

Mary looked at her friend with new interest. To the best of her knowledge, her real sisters had never been mentioned in this room, or even in Hunsford, so she wondered if perhaps she was not quite as subtle as she reckoned herself; or perhaps Madeline was more insightful than she thought.

Mary asked, "What sisters?"

Madeline was not to be put off, and said, "Don't worry Little. I doubt anyone but me thinks about it very much, but remember I am an only child. I have watched the other girls with sisters all my life. It's clear to me that you have sisters… probably more than one. I can tell just from your manner of speech."

Mary asked, "Does everyone know this?"

Madeline said, "I doubt it. If the others did guess, they would not concern themselves with it. You're the Little Lion, and that's good enough for them."

"But not for you?"

Madeline looked at her carefully for her reaction, before replying, "You mistake me Little. It is _quite_ good enough for _me_ , but I am not certain it is good enough for _you_."

Mary looked puzzled and asked, "What do you mean?"

Madeline replied, "I mean you didn't just drop out of the sky to land in this village. You have a past, and it is vexing you from time to time. I feel it may slowly start eating away at you if you do not do anything about it. I wouldn't care in the least if I thought you did not, but perhaps you do."

Madeline paused a bit, and then repeated, "You have a burden. Would you share it?"

Mary sat back thoughtfully, while Madeline watched for her reaction. Now with more time to think about it, she realized that when she told Charlotte Collins she did _not_ want to know about the fate of the rest of her family, she may have been selfish. She did not want to know, because she felt safe and comfortable here in Hunsford; but was she thinking only of herself? What if her family needed some kind of assistance that she could provide? Charlotte had thought not, but was that really her place? To force Mary to face her past and her family? Was Mary to rely on Charlotte's judgment, or make her own? Perhaps the Mary Bennet who left Meryton last winter may have been useless, but the newer and stronger Mary Bennet may be of some service.

Before she could go back too much into her brooding, Madeline asked, "Please, won't you share your burden Little? You took care of me when I needed it. Now I believe it is my turn!"

Mary bit her lip and asked, "What have you guessed?"

Madeline said, "Only the obvious. You're gently born. It is not so noticeable to everyone, but you use words that someone born to this class would not. You left your home for a reason; probably some sort of scandal I would surmise, or perhaps you were accosted. You have been avoiding talking about your family or even thinking about them as long as I've known you."

Mary surmised that she had been correct. Madeline was too clever by half at least, and asked, "Obvious to you. Do you think anyone else suspects this?"

Madeline thought about everyone they knew, and said, "I believe the parson's wife knows more than one would think."

With that guess, Mary had to start laughing. She laughed for several moments while Madeline looked on in puzzlement, and said, "She did not guess, she knows! She has known me since birth."

Madeline took that piece of knowledge, chewed on it for a few moments, and started putting the pieces together. She finally asked, "Is that why we walk three miles to church?"

Mary blew out a deep breath and said, "Yes, partially. We started there because Molly was sweet on a boy there, but I continue to go there to avoid the local parish. You see, it is even worse than it seems. The parson is my cousin."

At this, Madeline had to laugh herself. She finally said, "So you're hiding in plain sight, in front of your cousin and his wife who has known you since birth?"

Mary had to admit that was true, and Madeline laughed some more. Mary finally corrected her though, and said, "Mrs. Collins recognized me and spoke to me the same day you first held yourself up. She is keeping my confidence, and can be trusted."

Then Madeline turned serious and said, "Is it not time for you to talk to Mrs. Collins and find out what has been vexing you so; or do you plan to brood for a few more months?"

Mary thought about it a bit more, sighed, and said, "Yes, I imagine it is time to get on with it."

Madeline jumped up from the bed, picked up her bonnet from the side table and said, "Well, let's get to it!"

Mary had not planned to have another witness to the ultimate discussion with Charlotte. She was also thinking that deciding to talk with Charlotte did _not_ necessarily mean talking with her _now!_ However, after a few moments of woolgathering, she decided she was not entirely opposed to the idea, and perhaps Madeline might be able to put that caustic insight to good use. Retrieving her own bonnet, she replied, "Yes, let's get to it."

* * *

Madeline and Mary rounded the corner to the front of the parsonage, just as Mary belatedly began to wonder if her cousin was in attendance. Nothing in her past led her to believe he was anything but a bumbling idiot who wouldn't recognize her unless she got between his person and the diner table, but she really should not press her luck. She had just taken Madeline's arm to turn around to try to arrange a more convenient time to meet with the parson's wife, when she heard her name being called.

"Miss Little! Miss Osborne! Wait! Where are you going?"

Mary turned around to see her old friend Charlotte Collins turning the corner from her henhouse, surprisingly enough walking arm in arm with Miss Anne de Bourgh. Mary didn't know Miss de Bourgh, but she obviously knew _of_ her and was astonished to see her apparently on some type of poultry inspection with Mrs. Collins. Mary was confused as this was not in accord with any acceptable idea of Miss de Bourgh, but of course the heiress to Rosings was not what she was concerned with today.

Mary said, "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Collins. I can see that you are occupied, so we will come back another time."

Charlotte laughed and said, "Nonsense! You will come in for refreshments this instant!"

Charlotte had walked closer while saying this, and said in a lower voice, "Do not be nervous Miss Little. My husband is at Rosings for the next several hours at least."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief at that, but there was still one extraneous guest to be dealt with.

Mary was quite surprised to hear Miss de Bourgh say, "Miss Little! What a wonderful coincidence! I have desired to make you acquaintance for some time. "

Mary was puzzled by this and asked, "Me? Why?"

Anne laughed at her puzzlement and said, "Two reasons, really. The first is that you are the most interesting character in Hunsford; no offense, Mrs. Collins."

Charlotte smiled in amusement, and said, "None taken"

Still puzzled, Mary asked, "And the second?"

Anne, still in an apparently impertinent mood replied, "I owe you a debt Miss Little. I derived entirely too much amusement from your grand tour of the mud pits of Hunsford with my cousin."

Mary did her best to look puzzled and asked, "Mr. Savage is your cousin?"

Anne gave her a big smile at that, and replied, "No, I mean my _other_ cousin. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Mary looked alarmed at the fact that his name was known at Rosings. She had done her best to quell that information, but apparently it was not sufficient."

Anne continued, "Do not be alarmed Miss Little. My mother does not know, nor will she. I keep my own council."

Mary asked curiously, "How is it that you know but your mother does not?"

Anne answered, "I took care of that detail myself. It would not be to my liking for her to learn, so I told Mr. Collins a long and detailed description of the entire incident with _Mr. Savage_. He took care of my mother for me."

Mary, just happy to know Lady Catherine would not be involved in the issue decided she was satisfied, and answered, "I thank you Miss de Bourgh. I did nothing wrong, but had no real desire to discuss it with Lady Catherine in any detail, and your cousin _did_ ask me to keep it quiet."

Anne laughed again and said, "You did admirably, Miss Little. I could not have done better myself."

Anne paused to look carefully at Mary before continuing, "I am serious about owing you a debt Miss Little. I rarely get so much amusement, and to tell the truth, my cousin Darcy is much too serious. I truly believe that splash in the mud was the high point of his year."

Mary said, "Perhaps Mr. Darcy should try a different occupation if he finds his current one so dissatisfying."

Anne said, "Perhaps. Or perhaps he just needs to be successful in a pursuit he is currently frustrated with."

Mary said, "I know nothing of Mr. Darcy's business or his pursuits; except that he did a great kindness to my friend, so I am very much in his debt."

Anne looked carefully at her and said, "I believe there may be more to your story than I know, Miss Lion, but have no fear. I would like to know it one day, but many years of illness have taught me patience. I will not pry into your affairs, but I _will_ beg that you indulge me one day. I also ask you to remember I am in your debt, and I would like to repay it at some point."

Mary didn't even know what to think about all that, so she just decided not to. "I thank you for your forbearance Miss de Bourgh. You owe me nothing, but if I can oblige your curiosity one day, I shall do so."

Quite satisfied with the exchange, Anne said, "I thank you Miss Lion. I will be content with waiting. For the moment though, I can see that you have business with Mrs. Collins, so I will leave you. Good day Mrs. Collins. Good day Miss Lion. Good day Miss Osborne."

With that, curtseys were exchanged all around, Anne went to reacquire her phaeton to return to Rosings, and Charlotte led her new guests into her parlor. She told the other women, "This parlor is for my own particular use. My husband does not dare step foot in it, so have no fear of discovery; even in the unlikely event he discovers the art of brevity in his latest visit."

With giggles at this remark, Mary wondered what Mrs. Collins really thought of her husband. He had not seemed like much to work with, but perhaps if anyone could mold a man out of such weak clay, Charlotte would be the one that was up to the task. Mary was just glad it wasn't Lizzy. Lizzy did not mold clay. The clay either came finished, fired and hard as a rock, or she would smash it flat. There was no doubt how Mr. Collins would have fared with Elizabeth Bennet as a wife.

Truth be told, Mary thought about being married to the parson as she had so strongly desired at Netherfield, and after all that had happened, she was quite happy that she had not gotten her wish. The Mary Bennet of Netherfield would have been suffocated by the parson. The Little Lion would tear him to pieces. It was hard to tell which version of Mary Bennet would have emerged in the end.

After a bit less than the usual amount of polite opening conversation, Mary decided to get to the point.

"Charlotte, I wish to know what happened at Longbourn after I left.

* * *

Half an hour later, Mary Bennet sat in stunned silence, staring at her friend Charlotte Collins in abject horror. Madeline was also for once completely silent, while Mrs. Collins simply sat waiting for her friend to absorb the enormity of the story.

For Mary, the tale of the family's fortunes after her departure filled her with uneasiness, and also with confusion. It appeared that her own escape had been the smallest and least significant event to happen to their family in recent memory. It was almost entirely forgotten after the enormity of what followed.

The confusion was in Mary's feelings for what she should or should not have been doing during the past half year. On the one hand, her elder sisters had to face that without one more hopefully sensible sister to lend a hand. Perhaps, had she been there, or had she not made such a spectacle at the Netherfield ball, none of it would have happened.

On the other hand, she doubted very much that she would have been any help whatsoever, and would have just been dragged down with the rest, or possibly even made the scandal worse. She also had to admit that Lydia and Kitty were both scandals in the making for months or years before the Netherfield party ever appeared in Hertfordshire, so the ruination of the family may well have been inevitable, given the lack of parental restraint applied to the youngest, combined with an entire camp full of soldiers.

In the end, she started to speak at least a half-dozen times without the slightest sound escaping her mouth. Madeline tried as well, without any more words to show for the effort.

Finally, after an eternity, Mary said, "I have been so selfish."

Charlotte asked softly, "Was taking care of a woman you didn't even know for five months selfish, Mary?"

Mary looked at her and said, "No, that was just what had to be done."

Madeline joined back in asking, "And was using the one favor offered by the richest man we'll ever meet on another's well being selfish?"

Mary said, "I can see where you are both going, but I do not think my actions really proper."

Charlotte said, "Perhaps so and perhaps not Mary. It is not my place to judge, but I will not remain silent on this point. _I believe_ your parents are the ones truly at fault here. You at the least were the only person in Meryton willing to speak the truth. You are perhaps a touch selfish, but you are also brave and reckless, and generous. Do not berate yourself too much Mary. You did the best you could in the past. Now you just need to do the best you can in the future. In the end, that is all any of us can do."

Madeline said, "Let me also add that you said taking care of me was just what had to be done. Perhaps that is true, but _not everyone would have done it_. Not everyone would find a place in the village. Not everyone would do all you do to help widows and pensioners. You may have been selfish once in your youth Little, but I will not abide you calling yourself that now.  I will not!"

Mary thought furiously for a few more minutes. She thought about what Charlotte had said about Lizzy taking all the blame in the world on her shoulders, and wondered if that attitude was better or worse than what she did, running away from the scandal. She thought about Jane, who probably sailed through the destruction with unrelenting serenity, simply accepting all that happened.

In the end, none of the Bennet sisters' reactions were particularly rational. The three elder had all tried to do the right thing. Mary had truly believed she was reducing the scandal on her sisters by leaving. Jane and Lizzie were trying to make sure the next generation of Bennet children, were not raised in disdain and hatred. All three sisters had taken the hard path, while the younger sisters and both parents were taking the easy and selfish path.

Perhaps mistakes had been made, and perhaps all three of the Bennet sisters were half-crazy, but at least all three were trying to make the world just a little bit better, and Mary was proud of herself and her older sisters. He really had no need to see her younger sisters ever again, or her parents for that matter, but she all of a sudden really missed Jane and Lizzy.

Her friends watched her anxiously, but without pressing her for an answer.

Finally, after an extended wait, Mary said, "I must go to Longbourn."

Charlotte said, "I agree, but would you consider waiting a se'nnight? Nothing will change in that time."

Mary could not see any real point in waiting, but was also in no particular hurry either, so she asked, "Why?"

Charlotte said, "I can arrange to transport you there without expense. Take the time to settle your affairs. You do more in the village than you give yourself credit for, and it will take some time to make sure they are attended to."

Still anxious to get the miserable task over with, Mary nearly demurred, but thinking of the coin she had stored away and how much it might cost to go 50 miles to Hertfordshire and back, she decided saving some of it would not be a bad thing. Putting her affairs in order before what may be an extended absence was also entirely sensible. She agreed, "All right Charlotte, when am I to go."

Charlotte replied, "The 18th of June, I believe."

Mary agreed to the date, and asked how she was to get there.

Charlotte replied, "Let me worry about that. The details are not completely settled yet." Then she added, "I will expect you at the assembly on Friday, Miss Little Lion."

Considering that Mary surprisingly liked dancing at the assemblies now, and she might not be back for some time, she agreed. Then she took Madeline and went back to the boarding house. She had many things to take care of before her departure.


	42. The Hunsford Assembly – June 12 1812

Friday found Miss Mary Little Lion Bennet in the most unusual situation she could imagine. She had started to take care of her affairs in the village, and was surprised at how many things she was involved in. They had all just accumulated slowly over time. Most were easily dealt with. She would ask one of the other laundresses to take care of something, or sometimes she would ask someone else she knew in the village and found everyone quite agreeable. Word had spread that she was going on a trip, so everyone was curious about where and why, but most held their curiosity in check. They would find out soon enough, or they would not, but life would go on.

So it was on Friday she was a touch surprised to find herself in the milliner's shop, buying ribbons and lace, just like a more sensible version of her mother or younger sisters. Mary had no idea _quite why_ she was so engaged, but had given up all pretense of understanding her own motivations. The assembly was tonight, and she planned to both attend, and to enjoy herself. Quite why that required new ribbons and lace was an open question. Perhaps, she thought it was the uncertainty of leaving her home for who knew how long; and she wanted the local villagers to remember something other than a laundress with a paddle. Perhaps it was some premonition that things may not go to plan when she returned to Longbourn, and she wanted to enjoy one more evening before she faced an uncertain future. Or perhaps, she reluctantly admitted to herself, she just wanted to look pretty. Either way, here she was spending pennies and shillings on decoration. She eventually just made peace with the fact and went about her task.

The time for the assembly approached, and Mary found herself looking forward to it. She had to admit that with her freshly cleaned and ironed best dress, and the bit of accouterments she had added, she did feel just a little bit fine. She found it somewhat refreshing not having to compete with any of her sisters. Here, she was just herself, and she would miss that during her time in Hertfordshire.

* * *

Mary had just finished dancing with Mr. Savage. He was still a pleasant man and a good dancer. Mary was happy that he had recently become engaged to a shop assistant Mary knew slightly. She thought they might get on well, and so she had an enjoyable dance with him while his betrothed was otherwise engaged. They both had a good laugh at the infamous mud bath incident, and all was well.

As she finished the dance, she was approached by her friend Charlotte, who said quietly, "Come Mary. There is someone I want you to meet, and he has been asking to be introduced."

Mary was surprised to learn there was someone in the village she did not know, and then doubly surprised at her own shock. When had she become a woman that knew everyone in the village? Somehow, that position had come upon her completely unawares. One moment she was a meek little mouse, the next she was running for her life, he next she was defending herself, and the very next; she was a well-known person about the village. How had all this happened, and would her home still be waiting for her when she returned? She had no designs on staying at Longbourn any longer than absolutely necessary, nor did she particularly want to return to the life of the gentry. She knew that idea appeared irrational, but she had a real life here and was loathe to give it up, even if it was much harder.

Charlotte Collins was in no mood for the more pensive version of Mary Bennet, so she just latched onto Mary's arm and drug her off like a willful child towards the entrance, where Mary to her complete surprise saw Miss Anne de Bourgh. Mary stopped in shock at seeing the unexpected heiress at an assembly. To her knowledge, Miss de Bourgh had never attended one in her life, so what was so special about this one? Maybe her health was finally on the mend enough for her to get out more, or perhaps she expected some kind of amusement here. Perhaps she just could not stand one more evening with her mother and her companion.

Charlotte retraced a few steps to reattach herself to Mary's arm and keep her moving. Right about the time Mary finally got close enough to see Miss de Bourgh clearly, she noticed a man standing just behind the heiress, wearing a uniform.

Mary thought she may have seen the same man around the village back around Easter, but could not be certain. For her, one man in uniform was very much like another. This one however caught her eye this time. He wasn't a polished type of handsome man like Mr. Darcy, or a squeaky clean but weak kind of handsome like Mr. Bingley. _This man_ was an entirely different thing. Mary would have to describe him as _rugged_. He had the rough appearance of one who spent a lot of time outdoors, in the saddle, in inclement weather, or wherever his duties apparently took him. It was a look that would be more in place in a woodcutter like Mr. Savage, than one of the gentry. He was also obviously a gentleman. You could see it it in his bearing, in the way he stood, and she was sure she would hear it in his voice, should he decide to speak to her.

Charlotte stopped in front of Miss de Bourgh and the officer, and said, "Miss de Bourgh. Colonel. May I present Miss Little Lion."

The officer made a very proper bow, and said, "Colonel Fitzwilliam, at your service. I've been anxious to meet you, Miss Little. I've heard much about you, and I see that none of the praise has been exaggerated."

Mary barely remembered her manners in time to curtsey and say, "I am happy to meet you Colonel. I have no idea what you have heard, or why you would be interested."

She just about bit her tongue after that embarrassing reply, but before she got started on another brooding fit, the colonel asked, "If you are not otherwise engaged Miss Lion, may I ask for the next set?"

Mary stared in condusion, but had to admit that dancing with him had some appeal. To tell the truth, it had a lot of appeal. Apparently, in a bid to make her change into her younger sisters complete, she was following purchase of lace and ribbons; with chasing after officers. What would be next?

Mary managed to blurt out, "I am not engaged sir."

The colonel, apparently completely satisfied with the exchange, simply walked over to her side and held out his arm, not demanding any further speech on her part. They left a smirking Charlotte Collins to join the line for the next set.

* * *

The colonel turned out to be a very able dancer, and Mary found that after a few moments she got over her embarrassment and started enjoying the dance. After a time though, she thought to ask, "I believe we must have some conversation, Colonel?"

The colonel laughed openly, something he seemed like he might do frequently, and at just about any provocation. He answered, "Do you talk while dancing as a rule, Miss Little? For I warn you, once you get me started it seems unlikely I will stop. I have been called quite the chatterbox. I was only giving you a chance to catch your breath before I began my onslaught. My cousin chastises me for my verbosity most regularly, although I suspect it is more out of jealousy than discontent."

Mary, enjoying the odd wordplay said, "Your cousin sir? I assume you mean Miss de Bourgh? I have only met her once, so I am afraid I cannot comment on her relative verbosity. Do your worst, sir."

Mary thought she must have the right of it. Perhaps the colonel was here visiting Rosings and came to the assembly to find some amusement. It was certain he must be staying at the estate, as she would have heard about him if he was staying anywhere in the village, so it all made sense.

The colonel laughed and said, "Yes, Anne is my cousin and I must say you fascinate her. There is a mystery about you, and I do not know how long you will be able to avoid having her drag you out to Rosings for tea. Alas though, I was actually thinking of my other cousin."

Mary laughed at the idea of being invited to Rosings for tea, and replied, "Tea at Rosings! Surely you jest sir. Should I set up my laundry in the parlor first?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam joined her laughter, but said, "Do not consider yourself safe from her just yet. She is quite implacable."

"Perhaps colonel, but that is a question for another day. You mentioned another rather taciturn cousin? Who is this paragon of silence, sir?"

The dance separated them for a moment, and when they came back together he said, "I was referring to my other cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

The name caused Mary to stumble a bit, but she recovered well enough to prevent embarrassment… just barely. The colonel noticed, but wisely refrained from mentioning it, and said with a big smile and a bit of a chuckle, "I believe you shared a small excursion with him in the village recently."

Mary snapped back with some alarm, "Does everyone in Kent know about that incident? Or perhaps everyone in England, by now?"

The colonel, seeing she wasn't really amused by the comment came back to say, "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable Miss Little. I assure you, that was not not my purpose. My cousin Darcy was actually quite impressed by you, and I thought you might enjoy the anecdote."

Mary, now even more chagrined by the outburst replied, "Do not fret colonel. You did nothing wrong. I…"

At that point, she did not know exactly what to say to such a complete stranger in the middle of a dance, but finally said, "I was just a bit embarrassed by the whole incident, and do not enjoy reliving it quite as much as everyone else seems to."

The colonel nodded and said, "Let us not talk any more of cousins or other family members. What think you of music, Miss Little?"

Mary found herself in strange territory, yet again. She seemed to be even more inept at conversation than she had been back in Hertfordshire. It had been ages since anybody talked to her of music, and considering how her last performance ended, she did not repent the loss. She certainly was not going to discuss that debacle with the colonel, but she found herself curiously unable to just put him off like she would anyone else. Finally, she answered softly enough that he had trouble hearing, "I used to play the pianoforte, but very ill, and I must admit I have not thought of music in some time, Colonel."

The colonel for his part was becoming a bit frustrated. He just wanted to have a nice conversation with the lovely and quite interesting laundress, and somehow kept causing her distress.

The music came to an end, and Mary, not particularly impressed with her own performance curtsied and said, "My apologies Colonel. I'm afraid I have not been much of a conversationalist, but I do thank you for the dance."

Colonel Fitzwilliam found the young woman quite mysterious, and frankly enchanting. She was in some ways all amiability, and everyone in the village seemed to know her; but she was also a bundle of nerves on certain topics, and he seemed to have a knack for hitting on all of them in succession. He had come to the assembly specifically to meet her after hearing about her exploits from Anne, and he was not a man easily discouraged.

"Miss Little. I appear to have touched a nerve or three inadvertently, and for that I apologize, but you need not censure yourself. What conversation we have had is was not deficient in any way. In fact… would you indulge me for the supper set?"

Mary was surprised by the application, but happy for another chance. The colonel had made her uncomfortable, but through no fault on his part, and she wished to acquit herself better.

The supper set turned out to be much livelier, and the pair managed to avoid any real conversational problems or embarrassment. Once they were talking, the conversation flowed surprisingly smoothly. The colonel was an amiable man, quite versed in the art of talking, and Mary enjoyed the discussion. She did not have anything like his depth of experience… in fact, she began to believe she had just about none at all, but she found she could acquit herself well enough.

The colonel escorted her to supper, and they continued, as Mary quite lost track of the time. After supper, he danced with a few others, as did she, but he always seemed to be somewhere nearby. Mary found that she quite enjoyed the evening, and thought she would be unhappy when the evening ended; but she would always have happy memories of her dance with the colonel. It also, perhaps the first time in her life, made her start thinking that someday there might just be a man to fit into her life. Obviously not the colonel, but somebody.

As the last dance was just about to begin, the colonel appeared in front of her and said, "Miss Little, would one more dance be too much to ask?"

Mary laughed at him. He had the look of a naughty schoolboy up to some prank, so she answered half-mockingly, "A third dance colonel? If I were a gentlewoman, you would be off to the parson's mousetrap within the fortnight."

The colonel laughed, and said, "My cousin survived a mud bath with you. I believe I can take my chances. And besides…"

Mary just looked at him in challenge.

He continued, "Would that be so bad?"

To that, Mary could not think of a single word to say. Laundresses did not worry about all the silly rules of propriety, but they also did not marry gently bred officers, so she was safe enough. The teasing man obviously had quite a sense of humor, and she was enjoying his wordplay immensely. Maybe she could aspire to being Lizzy instead of Kitty or Lydia. She took the arm the colonel proffered and went to enjoy the dance.

When the dance was through, the colonel asked, "Miss Little, may I escort you home?"

Mary agreed, and when he delivered her safely to her doorstep, she had to admit she was sad to see him depart.


	43. Homeward Bound – June 18, 1812

_A/N: Got another twofer for you today. Two chapters, both Mary.  
_

* * *

The day finally arrived for Mary to go back to Longbourn, and she was looking forward to the ordeal with fear, trepidation and some curiosity. She had decided to forebear writing to her father… as if he would read his correspondence anyway. According to Charlotte, he had gotten even worse at that, and at just about everything since Mary left. No, she was not going to alert him to her upcoming visit. She would just show up on the doorstep and take her chances.

Charlotte had still been surprisingly short on candor about _precisely how_ Mary was to get to Meryton. She simply demanded Mary show up at the parsonage at nine.

The last week had been bittersweet and confusing. She knew she would be back within weeks, but she had no illusions that the same woman would return who left. Just as Little Lion was very little like Mary Bennet, she thought that whatever she endured in Longbourn would change her yet again. That was nothing to be anticipated or avoided. It was just the way life was, and she could not expect things to stay the same.

She had also found the intervening days to contain a perplexing amount of contact with Colonel Fitzwilliam. She reasoned he must be bored out of his skull at Rosings, whatever his tasks there might be, because he spent an awful lot of time in the village. She seemed to run into him just about every day, and nothing would satisfy the gentleman's sense of duty except to escort her wherever she was going, even though she walked there on her own perfectly well every day. She had to admit though; she quite enjoyed the company so she had no need to repine.

He even showed up on Sunday morning in a very fine coach to take the Little Pride to church. They were all very excited by both the fineness of the coach, and the chance to avoid the long walk to the church. They had all briefly thought about moving their devotions back to the local parish, but had thought better of it after Molly attended services one day to listen to Mary's cousin Collins. Two hours of that ordeal, and she came back insisting six miles of walking was as nothing. Aside from the tedium of the local services, they all were also loathe to miss out on their other friends. Still though, it was _very agreeable_ to ride in a fine coach for once, rather than the long walk.

Finally the day arrived; the 18th of June, 1812. Mary noted the date carefully, as she thought that somehow everything would be different after she had seen her former home and her family. She was reluctant to actually call them her former family, since family was forever, but she was not looking forward to the ordeal.

She had enjoyed long goodbyes for all of her sisters in the boarding house the previous evening, and the morning was to be reserved for the Little Pride. Everyone knew she planned to return, but no journey was without its perils, and they all seemed to know something important was likely to happen. Things may or may not be the same when Little came back.

Finally, she made to leave as she had her destiny awaiting her at Longbourn yard waste tonight, but as she started to put on her bonnet, she saw Madeline putting on hers as well.

She curiously asked, "Madeline, what are you doing?"

"Why, going with you, of course!"

Mary was not sure she was up to one more teary goodbye, so she said, "Madeline, I walk to the parsonage every week. I am certain I can make it this time just as well."

Madeline looked at her the way a governess might look at a particularly recalcitrant child, and said, "I do not mean I am going to the parsonage. I mean I am going with you to Hertfordshire. We have all agreed you should not go alone. Mrs. Collins agrees with us as well."

Mary huffed in exasperation, and added, "Since when is Mrs. Collins the authority on all things right and proper?"

Madeline, apparently in an impertinent mood, giggled and said, "She is whenever she agrees with me. When she vexes me, I disregard her entirely."

Mary looked carefully at Madeline, and looked around the room she had shared for so long, and saw nods from all the remaining laundresses. She decided it might not be the end of the world to have one friend in Hertfordshire. She had never told anyone else, including Charlotte that she still carried most of her original 70 pounds with her, so the added expense of bringing Madeline along would not be a bother. With Lizzy and Jane apparently gone, and Mary's old room still vacant, there should be ample room, and the two of them would obviously not consume much of any effort from the servants… if there were any left.

She nodded in both agreement and thanks, and both walked out the door before another round of tears could start.

* * *

As Mary walked out the door, she stopped so abruptly that Madeline ran into her back. There, standing on the street, hat in hand, apparently waiting for her was none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Mary got over her shock soon enough, made her polite greetings, and then added, "Colonel, I am so happy to get a chance to see you one more time before we depart."

The colonel looked… different. There was something about his manner that made Mary curious. She had spent much more time ruminating about how much she would miss his presence than she really wanted to think about, and for the moment she just wanted to enjoy these last few moments with him before she left.

The colonel seemed a little surprised to see Madeline, but he regained his composure quickly and addressed her, "Miss Osborne. How lovely to see you this morning."

Mary asked, "What brings you to the village this morning, Colonel?"

"I came to escort you, of course."

Mary could not see any _of course_ about it, but she was happy for the time and the company. Madeline took a look at the colonel and said, "Colonel, since you are here to escort Mar… Miss Little to the parsonage, would it be asking too much to ask the carriage pick me up at the boarding house. I am feeling more fatigued this morning than usual."

The colonel gallantly answered, "It would be my pleasure, ma'am."

With that said, the pair started walking towards the parsonage. About halfway there, as they crossed very near to Rosings, the colonel started speaking.

"I have a confession to make…"

Mary stopped and looked at him in confusion, waiting for him to speak his peace. The colonel took off his hat and started making a real attempt to murder it with his hands, which made Mary even more curious. She waited for him to come around to his thought, but not as patiently as she would like.

She prompted him, "A confession, Colonel."

He looked at her intently, and Mary felt a quaking in her stomach. This was apparently not a tiny little conversational confession, made to pass the time or apologize for a small trespass. This was a real confession, in the truest sense of the word.

The colonel, finally continues, "I have not been entirely forthcoming with you… _Miss Bennet_."

Mary was surprised, but not as much as she might have expected. She had avoided disclosure of her secret for so long, she no longer even thought about it, but if the colonel knew, soon everyone would.

She whispered, "How long have you known?"

He replied, "I only worked it out a few days ago. You need not rebuke Mrs. Collins or your other friends. I came to it on my own, but I suspect both Darcy and Anne will work it out as well, sooner or later. I am afraid your secret will not remain as such for very long."

Mary had known that as soon as she went back to Hertfordshire the old Mary Bennet would be back no matter how much she disliked the idea, so she thought the man deserved to rest easy. She said, "It is of no importance Colonel. The secret would not stay put for long anyway. I am returning to my father's home today for a visit, and my real name will follow me back like the wind."

The colonel said, "I thank you. That was not my only bit of subterfuge though, and on this next one, I must also implicate Mrs. Collins."

"That is all very mysterious Colonel. Please enlighten me."

The colonel looked at her again with that intent look and said, "I am afraid the ride to Hertfordshire that Mrs. Collins offered you is in a Darcy coach, and I am escorting you. It has been planned from the beginning, but I did not disclose it."

Mary was more shocked by this revelation, and simply asked, "Why?"

He replied, "Because, I wanted to get to know you, without that hanging over our heads."

Mary now seemed only able to operate in monosyllables, and asked again, "Why?"

The colonel drew in a deep breath, and began talking directly from his heart, " _Miss Mary Bennet. I would like to ask you to do me the great honor of becoming my wife."_

Now Mary found even monosyllables to be beyond her ability. She looked at the colonel in incomprehension.

The colonel took this as sufficient encouragement to continue, and said, "Before you answer, you must know the _full measure_ of what you are considering. I am a younger son of an Earl, and my life outside of my military career has been spent on rather expensive but idle pursuits, all financed by an allowance from my father, and occasionally by tagging on with my brother, or Darcy. I do not wish to live that life anymore. I have a Colonel's salary in the Kings Army, and I mean to raise a family on that alone. It will not be first circles or even second or third circles, but I believe it will be honorable, I believe it will be worthwhile. I would like _you_ to build this life with _me_."

Mary finally found the ability to speak and said, "Do you _really_ think a laundress will find a Colonel's situation in any way difficult?"

Fitzwilliam looked at her carefully, and answered, "Yes, I do. I am to be deployed to the Canadas in four weeks time. There is almost certainly to be war with the former colonists, and I will likely fight it. I want my wife _there_ , living my life, _with_ _me_. Not sitting in London waiting for me to return. Not living off the charity of my family. It will be barracks and officer's mess so it is not as bad as for the enlisted men, but make no mistake; it is not an easy life."

Mary absorbed this, and asked, "Are you trying to convince me to say 'Yes' or 'No' Colonel?"

"I am trying to give you the respect of allowing you to make a choice with your eyes wide open. I want you for my wife with every fiber of my being, but I will not have you come blindly."

Mary was once again reduced to the meanest of vocabularies, and asked yet again, "Why?"

Fitzwilliam started to speak again, but she held up her hand a moment, and said, " _Why me_ Colonel? Please don't tell me you have fallen so deeply in love with me that you cannot live without me? I'm not stupid, so do not trifle with me."

Fitzwilliam said, "I would not give you the dishonor of lying to you. I will not say that I am so uncontrollably in love as that, but I do believe I love you, and I believe you at least like me. We can build a deeper and truer love over time. I believe love is _what you do_ , not what you feel at some point in the beginning. We would have a lifetime to build it, bit by bit. We can have a good marriage… a very good marriage."

Mary asked, "What do you think makes a good marriage, Colonel?"

He had his answer right away. He had obviously put some thought into it. He said, "I think respect is the cornerstone. Affection is essential, but respect is paramount. I respect you, and I have a very strong affection for you that I cannot deny; and I hope I have seen signs of the same from you. The rest we can build, so long as you respect me as well."

Mary asked, "Do you really think you know me so well after only a se'nnight, most of it spent in open deceit on at least one of our parts, Colonel?"

He simply said, "Yes"

"Why?"

The colonel stepped a little closer and said, "Because I do. You have won my heart without even trying. In battle, Miss Bennet, one learns how to judge who to trust very quickly. Those who do not learn this skill do not survive. I trusted you the moment I met you. In battle, you also learn to make decisions quickly, and act upon quickly. My affection for you started during that first assembly, and has only grown through the following se'nnight, to land us here."

Mary said, "Is that enough?"

The colonel said, "It will have to be. Given more time, I would court you assiduously for months, Miss Mary Bennet. I would not be denied, but I would also not try to force something upon you so quickly. But king and calendar will not wait for me. I leave in four weeks time and that cannot be changed. _I want to take you with me._ That means we have to talk to your parson today, and have the banns read next Sunday. I admit it is not ideal, but it is how it must be. You have leave to change your mind, right up until the time we exchange vows, but we must make a start today if we wish to proceed."

Mary replied to that, "No, you are not correct that I can change my mind. I will only say 'yes' once in my life, and I will never retract the promise once given. No, it is not to be that easy Colonel."

The colonel replied, "I expected as much, but my character demanded and the offer, as distasteful as you probably found it to be."

Mary looked thoughtfully at the colonel, not knowing where to go next, so he continued, needing to finish all that he had to say.

"I believe I do love you Miss Mary. I am _not_ completely, insanely and destructively in love with you like my cousin Darcy is with your sister Elizabeth; but I believe the feeling is strong and will grow. I certainly esteem you and I certainly respect you. I can see what you have done here after arriving with nothing half a year ago. You have the strength and the heart that is necessary. We will have a good life together, if you will take the chance. I know it is a very big chance, and I know it is asking a lot; but I do ask, with all of my heart."

Mary watched her suitor intently as she thought intently about every couple she knew, good or bad. Her own parents were a perfect example of what you got in a marriage _without_ respect. Perhaps they had love and admiration in the beginning, or more likely her mother just had great beauty. Certainly, if her father had any respect for her mother, there had been no evidence of it during Mary's lifetime. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were the happiest couple she knew and they certainly respected each other. Could it be as simple as the colonel thought it was?

She knew what Charlotte Lucas thought. She just wanted her own home and establishment, and would accept nearly anyone to get it. Mrs. Collins was content with her situation, but Mary was now glad she had not gotten her wish at the ball. She would not have been the least bit content cooped up in this parsonage with her cousin. The very idea made her shudder.

Last of all was _the big question_. _Could_ she leave everything she knew, leave England itself, to start over yet again, in pursuit of a dream? _Could_ she see her husband go off to fight, possibly for months, or to be honest, possibly never to return? _Could_ she bring children into the world knowing there was a reasonable chance they would lose their father in battle? _Could_ she abandon her sisters to whatever fate they had created for themselves yet again, weeks after deciding to try to reconcile? Most importantly of all, could she do that with _this particular man_?

All of these questions swirled around and around in her mind, nearly, but not quite overwhelming her.

The colonel had learned patience on the battlefield. The impulsive man, first into the breach, first to yell for king and country, first to execute a badly thought out plan; was usually the first killed. In fact, military life was a mixture of unrelenting boredom mixed with pure terror. If nothing else, that life did teach patience. He had taken a full se'nnight to think about this, and he was asking her to come to a decision in minutes. He would give her all the time she needed.

To bargain for time, Mary asked, "Won't you need my father's permission? I am not of age, and he is unlikely to give it."

Once he had determined who she was, and his possible course of action, he had checked into the issue quite carefully. He replied, "No you do not. It is a common myth. You simply need to have the parson at your own parish read the banns for three weeks. When you live with your father, his permission is usually necessary to get the parson's compliance, but as long as your parson is willing to oblige us, you do not need your father's permission, or even his knowledge."

Mary laughed, and said "I assure you Colonel, no parson in Kent would deny a Fitzwilliam anything he deigned to ask."

Once again, Mary thought very carefully about her choices. With her head, she could see that marrying the colonel would be impulsive and reckless; but she had made an impulsive and reckless choice before and she was satisfied with the results. That did not mean the impulsive choice was always, or even usually, the correct one, as she had been the recipient of luck much more than skill. However, boldness was certainly occasionally called for. When she thought with her _head_ about what the colonel said, it all made a certain amount of sense, and nothing in her experience contradicted it. She might not love him now, but she _could_ … without very much effort, she finally admitted to herself.

At long last, once her head had decided the scheme was quite mad but workable, and no more risky than any other choice she was likely to make, she decided to look into her heart.

In her heart, she saw the answer is clear as day, and it once again reduced her to monosyllables. She simply looked up at her suitor, allowed her eyes to speak for her, and said "Yes".

* * *

Mary Bennet had only a second or two at the most to see the look of heartfelt delight that spread across her intended's face, for the very next moment she found herself lifted into the air and spun about wildly like a child. That lasted for who knew how long, before she found herself planted on the ground, still held firmly with his arms around her waist and hers around his shoulders.

The next few moments were a blur, as her first kiss left her quite breathless, and truth be told, it did the same for her betrothed; although his extensive military training at least managed to keep him on his feet… but it was a very near thing.

Sometime later, Mary came to the realization that they were both still standing, wrapped in each other's arms. She had many questions, but could only concentrate on the trivial, so asked, "One question, my love."

She actually gasped at the use of the affectionate term, which had become second nature all within a minute or two without her even realizing it.

"Yes"

"What is your given name? I cannot call you Colonel for the rest of our lives?"

Fitzwilliam laughed openly, and said, "Richard, but I must say that my mind cannot be tasked with anything very much more challenging than that right now."

"Why is that, Richard?"

Richard chuckled and said, "You just said two things, and I am spending all my effort trying to determine which was my favorite."

"Two things?"

"Yes! You called me _my love_ and you said _the rest of our lives_."

Mary found herself thinking very carefully about that. How had she moved from a mild… well, to be honest it was more than mild… admiration to such deep contentment in five minutes time? How had her world turned itself upside down so fast?

While Richard continued with his ruminations, she thought she may have come to an epiphany. She asked, "Richard, I believe I know something I did not before. Do you know what is _more_ powerful than love?"

Richard admitted that he did not.

Mary replied, "I believe it is the power of a clear and unambiguous decision. In a moment, I decided to accept you, and my entire life will pivot around that decision. Everything I think after that moment will be changed by the decision; and once it was made, it was cast in stone, irrevocable."

The colonel had his moment to think, and said at length, "I agree, for what is love other than a clear and unambiguous decision to love someone, that is made by the heart instead of the head? Did your head or your heart prevail, my love?"

Mary laughed, "My heart, silly. My head agreed somewhat reluctantly!"

Richard laughed at her impertinence. He was not entirely certain his cousin Darcy was really chasing the cleverest of the Bennet sisters, but he would not tell him. Let Darcy find his own path, with his own Bennet sister. Richard had the exact Bennet sister that best suited him.

Relaxing her hold, Mary said, "You understand, I still need to go to Hertfordshire."

"I understand we need to go to Hertfordshire. Let us break the news to Mrs. Collins and your other friends, and then see the parson. We still have 50 miles to cover today."

Reluctantly releasing his shoulders, she worked her way to his side, and took his arm with a bit of a proprietary air. For the first time in living memory, Mary Bennet was quite happy.

"Richard"

"Yes, my love?"

Mary laughed again, and said, "I don't suppose you have a colonel for Madeline?"

Richard liked the way his intended thought, and said, "Would a captain do?"

"Would she have more than a se'nnight to get to know him, and more than five minutes to make a decision?"

He replied, "Yes. I only have one man in mind; whom I think is worthy. She will not have a lot of time, but he will follow me to the Canadas one month behind."

Mary said, "Well then, let's get to it."

Richard said, "I have one more subterfuge to confess, my love."

"Is this the last?"

"For the morning"

Mary said, "Out with it, mister!"

Richard said, "Your pastor _might_ just happen to be visiting with your cousin right now."

Mary laughed and laughed at the arrogance of the insufferable man. Arm in arm they walked towards their new life, which oddly enough was to begin that very day, in the Hunsford Parsonage.


	44. Six Mules – June 11, 1812

_A/N: Notifications finally seem to be working, so if you've been away for awhile you may need to go back to chapter 37 where they quit working._

 _Here's a bit of Jane for you. Wade_

* * *

"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet! Are you all right?"

Jane Bennet looked up in confusion at the fuzzy outline of what sounded vaguely like a young man staring down anxiously at her. Her head was full of cotton and nothing really seemed to make sense. That realization was followed a moment later by the determination that she hurt all over… abominably. Her head was pounding, her back felt like she had been mauled by a bear, her arms and legs did not seem to even be pointed in the right directions, and in general, she was not doing at all well.

As her vision cleared somewhat, she saw that it was in fact a young man in front of her, or more likely above her since she could see bright blue sky and a burning hot sun behind him. She could not see him clearly, but he appeared to be looking at her intently and anxiously. She turned her head, which turned out to be a mistake, and saw a few others standing a few feet behind him. Her head still hurt horribly, and as her hearing gradually cleared a bit, she heard what must be the coachman trying to calm what were apparently several very skittish and frightened horses. She could vaguely see the corner of the coach, and Amelia jumping up and down on her toes with anxiousness, but being held back by Martin who looked deathly pale.

She tried to clear her head by shaking it... which in retrospect turned out to be a mistake, as it started hurting even worse. She tried her voice, and after several attempts, she sorted through her feelings to determine what seemed most important, and finally whispered, "Come, Amelia!"

Like an arrow fired from a cannon, Amelia ran towards her, but was prevented from grabbing onto her her by the young man, who very gently took hold of the child before she plowed into Jane, and said, "Please have a care, Miss Amelia. Miss Bennet is in great pain. Just sit here beside her and take her hand."

Amelia did as she was bid, gently taking Jane's hand, and Jane thought she had done the right thing. There was comfort to be gained by giving comfort to others, and she could see that Amelia was _very_ worried. After holding the child's hand until she felt confident she was all right, she asked the young man, "What happened?"

The young man, who as her vision cleared looked vaguely familiar said, "You were in a carriage accident, Miss Bennet. There has been substantial flooding in Hertfordshire and I am afraid the road was damaged. You tumbled from the top of the coach. It was very fortunate you weren't killed! You missed that rock by less than a yard."

The concern in the young man's voice was obvious, and Jane felt somewhat sorry about causing him such pain. She asked, "Might you help me to sit up, please?"

"Yes, of course!"

Jane expected the young man to help her to a sitting position, and hoped to eventually move out of the hot sun which was roasting her alive but instead, the young man bent over her, carefully put his arms under her shoulders and knees, and picked her up like a child. He then carried her out of the sun to set her gently on a fallen log in the shade. He then sat beside her, and made sure she could sit without falling over; which turned out to be fortunate as she did not have the ability to hold herself up at all.

She caught her breath, waited for the world to stop spinning, and took a more careful look at her children. Martin was standing in front of her, and he took charge of the situation. He said, "None of us were injured, Miss Jane. Lucy has looked to our care, and is now helping the coachman with the horses."

Jane looked over at the coach, which had one obviously damaged wheel but was still standing mostly upright, and thanked fortune that everyone had survived it. The tumble would never be considered her favorite pastime, but she was very thankful that neither Lucy nor any of the children were on top of the coach at the time. She did not think she could have stood that without going mad.

Next to the coach, she saw what looked like a heavy wagon, with a six-mule team, apparently loaded with some large rocks and gravel.

Finally, after some time, her head cleared enough to remember her manners, and she said, "I owe you my thanks, sir. I presume you have been looking after my charges and my own health."

The young man, who must be the carter, spoke with what seemed to Jane like an unusually gentile voice and manner, "You owe me nothing, Miss Bennet. I am only glad that my path took me by this road at such an auspicious time."

Jane demurred, "Nevertheless, I do owe you my most profound thanks, sir."

She was quite surprised to hear the young man chuckle at that statement, and asked, "Did I speak out of turn, sir?"

The man said, "No, it's just that you need not call me 'sir'. I am a simple carter."

Jane replied, "If you are here helping me and my charges, I believe a 'sir' is entirely appropriate."

At this, the young man started laughing, and Jane found his laughter draining some of her tension as well. She smiled at him to show her appreciation of his good humor, although laughing was quite beyond her.

She asked, "I appreciate your good humor, sir, but might I inquire as to what is so funny."

At this, the young man laughed even more uproariously, until both Amelia and the boys were laughing with him, even though none had the vaguest idea what was so funny. He felt concerned that he might be acting with a bit too much impertinence, but he just could not help himself.

Finally, he got himself under control, and said, "What is so funny Miss Bennet, is that is almost _word for word_ what your sister said to me when I told her she need not call me 'sir'"

Jane, startled by this turn of conversation asked anxiously, "My sister sir?"

He said, "Yes, your sister, Miss Mary. She said that the night I gave her a ride last November away from that fancy ball at Netherfield."

Jane's pain was far from healed, but it dropped from her consciousness immediately, and she asked anxiously, "You saw my sister?"

The young man looked alarmed with himself for a moment, and then said, "I am sorry Miss Bennet. I am afraid I may have betrayed a confidence just then."

Jane was not to be so easily put off, so she said, "It is done now, and you need not fear me on my sister's behalf. I just wish to know that she is well, that is all. She will receive no censure from me, if I could just know something of her fate."

The young man said, "She was walking alone, without her pelisse in the middle of the night, in November. I offered to take her to Longbourn, but she refused. I took her to my mother to ask her advice."

Jane's head was starting to clear just enough to recognize the young man, and asked, "You're the Stewart boy, aren't you? Norman, I think?"

Norman said, "Yes, ma'am. Norman Stewart, at your service. I have to admit to some astonishment that you know who I am."

Jane leaned back and looked at him more carefully, and said, "I believe I misspoke. You are not a boy at all, are you? I apologize sir, you are most definitely a man."

The young man she saw before her looked like he had shot both up and out in perhaps the last year, or even the last half-year. His clothes were neatly patched and repaired as she would expect of Mrs. Stewart, but it was obvious he was growing out of them just as quickly as they were let out. He looked to have maybe sixteen years. He was tall and broad through the chest. She remembered how he had carried her with no more effort than Amelia would expend on a rag doll, and surmised… no, he was not a boy at all. This was a man sitting beside her, still holding his hand on her back unselfconsciously to insure she remained upright. Not a boy in the least. Jane planned to blame her quite uncharacteristic candor and lack of both manners and propriety on her head injury.

Norman blushed furiously at what was obviously a compliment, and found himself quite tongue-tied. For most of a very long moment, he could not say anything at all, but finally blurted out, "I thank you for the compliment, Miss Bennet. You still do not need to call me 'sir'."

Jane, feeling in a surprisingly playful mood said, "Once again, I must say that you have earned the title, sir!"

Norman, feeling he was somehow as safe being just a bit impertinent with this Bennet sister as with Miss Mary said, "Are all the Bennet sisters this stubborn?"

Jane replied, "I do not take your meaning, sir."

Norman replied, "Your sister Miss Mary was the same way. In fact, she took to calling me 'Sir Norman.'"

Norman, thinking he may have gone too far, looked over at Amelia who was looking a bit mischievous. He groaned aloud when she gave him a curtesy fit for a king, and said, "Amelia Bennet at your service. I am very pleased to meet you, _Sir Norman_."

Norman groaned, "I will regret telling you that, won't I?"

Amelia laughed and skipped around, constitutionally incapable of remaining unhappy, now that Miss Jane was recovering.

Jane settled down a bit and said, "Can you tell me what happened to my sister, Mr. Stewart?"

Norman saw no real harm in telling her the truth, and he reflected that there was almost nothing this Miss Bennet could ask that he would not oblige. Even should he be so inclined, she had the look of one who was not to be trifled with. She was clearly not going to give any problems to Miss Mary, so what was the harm?

He looked over at Amelia and the boys, who all decided to make themselves scarce now that Miss Jane was well. She would tell them what they needed to know, so Martin decided to go check on the coachman and Miss Lucy, and dragged the other two with him.

Norman looked carefully at Miss Bennet and said, "You are asking me to betray a confidence, Miss Bennet, but I feel you can be trusted."

Jane said, "I assure you I can, sir. I would just like to know my sister is all right. It is the only thing I wish for her, although I would dearly like to see her again to apologize."

Norman, making his choice said, "She wanted to leave. My mother was not certain if that was the right choice or not, but in the end agreed it was her choice, so we helped her."

Jane asked, "And your opinion?"

He answered, "I agree with my mother… on all matters." He said it with a finality that Jane found endearing. This was no doubt the best of sons. She had actually worked with Mrs. Stewart for mending from time to time, and vaguely thought the boy must have been working since he was about twelve. This was a man beside her worthy of respect.

Of course, that thought made her realize he was still sitting beside her, with his hand on her back, and reflect that she did not look forward to leaving the log at all.

She gently asked, "What happened to her."

Norman looked at her carefully, and said, "I took her to Longbourn to collect here savings and a few things that would not be missed. She told me it was 70 pounds, which should be enough to live comfortably for a year. I took her to Hatfield two days later, and from there she stayed with one of my friends for a se'nnight. He took her to another town to stay with my mother's sister, but they did not know she had already died. We did not hear anything from your sister, until she wrote my mother maybe a month later."

Jane got very excited, and said, "She wrote your mother? May I know where she landed?"

Norman looked chagrined, and said, I am afraid the letter was damaged in the post. The return direction is difficult to read. It is a place called Hunstsfield, or Huntsfeld or something similar. She only wrote the once, and apologized for the expense of receiving the letter, but assured us she was safe and well."

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Mary was well, somewhere in the world, and there was time. She would find her, or she would force her father to. It was high time he did his duty as a father, and she was in no more humor to allow him to shirk. She was not the meek lamb who left half a year ago, and things were going to be different at Longbourn!

Norman looked at her pensively, and added, "I'm sorry, Miss Bennet. I do not know that I would have done the same thing today, but it seemed the right thing at the time."

Jane asked fiercely, "Did you take my sister in when she was distressed? Did you offer her a coat or a blanket when she was cold? Did you shelter her from the pain and gossip of the neighborhood? Did you do as she asked of you, even though it might have had consequences for you and your mother?"

He just nodded, so she said, "Then never apologize for that again, Mr. Norman Stewart. You did exactly as was right and proper, and you shall always have my thanks, not my censure."

Norman just nodded again, and started chewing his lower lip, apparently with more to say but not knowing where to start.

Jane said, "You have more news, Sir Norman?"

He laughed at the name, and said, "I am going to regret sharing that anecdote, aren't I."

Jane, feeling bold as a titan reached over and put her hand on his as she looked at him carefully and said, "Yes, I believe you shall?"

Both chuckled, although Jane was nowhere near ready to actually laugh. Her head did not hurt quite so abominably, but it was not feeling very good either. She looked at the young man and said gently, "I suspect you have some other news?"

Norman said, "Yes. It appears that your sister, Miss Catherine lost the child she was carrying several months ago."

Jane's good humor evaporated instantly, and she was immediately filled with sadness, that Kitty had to go through that with nobody but her parents to help; which was the same as having no help at all.

She jumped up from the log, and almost collapsed. The quick thinking Norman was there to catch her though, and he held her steady until she could stand on her own feet.

Once she was standing again, she said, "I must go to my sister at once!"

Then she looked at the coach in alarm. It was clear that coach was going nowhere anytime soon.

Norman said, "If you would not mind riding with a load of rocks, it would be my privilege to deliver you to Longbourn, Miss Bennet."

Jane looked down at her dress. It was her maid's dress, which she wore preferentially now, partly because it made for fewer questions while she traveled; but mostly because she now felt more comfortable in it than her traditional dresses. Not only was it less pretentious, but it was far easier to put on and off, and more comfortable in the bargain. Of course, now it was ripped, and torn and bloody.

She said, "Look at me, Mr. Stewart. I am no longer really the haughty gentlewoman that left here half a year ago. I doubt even your mother could save this dress, but it was not that fine to start with. I will not abide you talking of your fine wagon and mules with anything except the greatest praise. I will ride with you happily, any day."

Norman thought that he might like this Bennet sister even more than Mary! He said, "I assure you Miss Bennet. I have looked at you most carefully, and there is nothing wrong with your dress or your person."

He nearly bit his tongue at his impertinence. How had that slipped out? He glanced at Miss Bennet, but saw that she was apparently in no mood to censure him… in fact, she was smiling as she said, "Shall we repair to your fine carriage, Sir Norman?"

At that, both of them started giggling, and left immediately towards his wagon and team.

Amelia ran up to the pair, or rather Amelia ran towards them like a tomcat with its tail on fire and ran straight into Sir Norman, before bouncing off as if he were a tree trunk.

She said, "Sir Norman. Can I look at your mules? I've never seen mules up close before."

Norman looked to Jane for permission, before saying, "I must get you all home first Miss Amelia, but would you agree to seeing them tomorrow?" Norman leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "I _might_ even let you hold the reins, if Miss Bennet allows it."

Amelia clapped her hands, and ran off to the boys, screaming at the top of her lungs, "We get to sit on top of these rocks!"

The boys, obviously too old and dignified to clap their hands or dance around, nevertheless high-tailed it to the wagon and scrambled up the rear wheels to stake out a spot on top of the rocks.

Norman went to check on the coachman, who had managed to release the horses and was talking with Lucy to inquire if he wanted a ride as well. The coachman demurred, but asked Norman to tell the postmaster of their difficulties, and he would dispatch someone to take care of the coach.

Lucy looked more than tempted to stay with the coachman, but eventually agreed that she would try to look in on him perhaps on the morrow after he reached Meryton, just to be sure he was all right.

Norman helped Jane up to the seat, took his place beside her, and with a quick whistle the mules were off.


	45. Where to My Lady – June 11 1812

As the wagon started Norman took great caret to insure his team of mules was doing well, and then asked the oddest question Jane could imagine, "Would you like to go to Longbourn straightaway, Miss Bennet; or perhaps you would like to go to Netherfield first?"

Jane looked at him in extreme puzzlement, and said, "Netherfield? I do not understand the question, but I assume you sir, I never wish to go to Netherfield again in my life!"

Norman was taken aback by the vehemence with which she spat out the name _Netherfield_ , and looked at her in puzzlement for a moment before he came to his senses.

He said very quickly, "My apologies, Miss Bennet. I did not explain myself. Would it be too impertinent for me to surmise that you do not want to see the perfidious Mr. Bingley again?"

Jane, nearly ready to spit at the mere mention of his name said, "Especially Mr. Bingley, but I assure you sir, there was nobody at Netherfield I wish to see… ever again!"

Norman, seeing that he had dug himself a deep hole, decided he had better either quit digging, or else start climbing out. He opted for the latter, and said, "Things have changed, Miss Bennet. Have I leave to explain?"

Jane said, "I apologize, Mr. Stewart. I had no need to show you to such vehemence after all your kindness. I just do not react well to that bunch."

He replied, "Think nothing of it Miss Bennet. It is all perfectly understandable. Allow me to explain."

"Please do"

Norman, not knowing where to start said, "Mr. Bingley has not been back since November, and nobody in Meryton misses him or his sisters. The new master of Netherfield is actually Mr. Darcy."

Jane gasped aloud, "Mr. Darcy!"

Not wanting to fall back into his own hole, Norman continued quickly, "He is not the man you knew in November, Miss Bennet. He has changed… substantially. I would ask you to start anew with him. I believe you will find him worthy."

Jane asked, "How so?"

Norman said, "We had terrible flooding the last month. Mr. Darcy was everywhere, doing everything. He single-handedly saved both Netherfield and…"

Jane looked at him in anticipation, while he apparently thought about how the rest of his news would be received. Norman took a deep breath, and continued, "… and Longbourn. Your father never left the manor house. It was left to Mr. Darcy to take care of your father's estate. He also assisted both the Lucases and Goldings."

Jane gaped at him open-mouthed, and said, "Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy!"

Norman could see that she was having trouble accepting the fact, and added somewhat emphatically, "He is not the man you knew Miss Bennet. He is a worthy master, and I think a good man. I believe he was deeply affected by what happened to your sister. I would appreciate it if you gave him a chance."

Jane said, "If you ask it of me, I shall do it Mr. Stewart. I have… That is, I…"

He looked at her in puzzlement.

She finally finished her thought, "I trust you."

She was gratified to see a huge smile on the young man's face, and she had to say, he was a _very_ handsome man.

Norman nodded once more and said, "Miss Darcy keeps house at Netherfield now. If you would not consider me stepping out of place, I might suggest…"

Jane looked at him encouragingly.

He continued, "…I might suggest that she is a _very_ amiable woman, and I dare say you would like her. I believe she would happily offer you a place to rest, clean clothes, a meal and a place for the children to stay while you…"

Jane looked carefully, and again prompted him with her expression.

Norman continued, "… while you visit Longbourn. I… er… that is… I do not think you want the children to see Longbourn before you have… evaluated it."

Jane was impressed with both Mr. Stewart's sensibility, his manner of speaking, and his willingness to help her. This was not the simple carter he professed to be, and she suspected she saw Mrs. Stewart's tutoring in effect. She asked, "How is it you know _so much_ about Miss Darcy?"

Norman, finally thinking he was on safe ground, said, "I work for Mr. Darcy. This is his wagon and his mules. He has entrusted me with a task, and I will see it done the best I can. And…"

Jane once again encouraged him with a look, and he continued, "…These rocks and gravel, Miss Bennet."

"Yes"

"They are going to Longbourn."

With that, Jane was absolutely certain the world had run amok. She thought for a few minutes and said, "If you feel absolutely certain Miss Darcy will welcome me… well… please take me to Netherfield, Mr. Stewart."

Norman replied, "I can assure you of one thing, Miss Bennet. Nothing in the world would give Miss Darcy more pleasure than your company. I believe she has been anticipating it for months."

With that, the two settled into a companionable silence that, except for a few inconsequential remarks, lasted until he drove the wagon up to the front door of Netherfield. Apparently, the new masters of Netherfield were not so fine as to be intimidated by a workman with a wagon full of rocks, maids, children and gravel at the front door.

The first thing Jane Bennet noticed as she arrived at Netherfield was that she _quite_ liked the feeling of Norman Stewart lifting her down from the wagon. He was a practical man, at one with his mules in the strength arena, and still worried about her after her tumble. Without asking leave, or even really thinking about it, he simply reached up to grab her by the waist and set her on the ground gentle as a butterfly. Amelia and the boys followed suit, looking up in ether breathtaking admiration or deep fear at the facade of Netherfield.

The second thing she noticed was that there was _extensive_ flood damage since her last visit here, but as far as she could tell, every gardener in Hertfordshire, or perhaps in Southern England, was at work repairing the damage. She had no idea how the estate could afford the expanse, but there was to be no doubt, Mr. Darcy was a diligent master.

The third things he noticed was a young woman about Lydia's age shoot out of the house like a cat after a mouse. Whoever this woman was, she was dressed in obviously fine clothes, she was followed by an older lady who had the look of a companion, and she had not the slightest concern with appearing ladylike or showing _proper decorum_.

The young woman stopped in front of them breathlessly and asked, quite impertinently but familiarly, "Mr. Stewart, who have you brought me."

Before waiting for any kind of answer, she said, "Welcome to Netherfield. I hope you will come in for some refreshment… and OH! I can see you are injured."

The young woman seemed a little excitable to Jane, but good hearted. She had not been in the least concerned when Mr. Stewart brought what appeared to be two maids and three children to her door in his wagon, one scratched, bruised and bloodied."

She turned around quickly, signaled a footman, and sent him scurrying to the village for the apothecary, telling him to come at once.

Jane, barely had time to catch her breath before the young woman had taken both her hands and said, "I do hope you are not too badly injured." She looked at the children, and said, "And your children must be starving. You must come in at once. Mr. Stewart, you will come in for refreshment as well."

Jane was nearly exhausted by the ordeal, but had to admit she liked this young woman. She liked her very much… very much indeed.

Norman, seeing the young woman about to fly off in another direction, held his hand up to slow her down and said, "Miss Georgiana Darcy! Please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Jane Bennet, Mr. Martin Bennet. Mr. Mathew Bennet and Miss Amelia Bennet."

Jane smiled to see the young Miss Darcy's face change. It was like watching a thunderstorm roll across the land from the top of Oakham Mount. It had never occurred to the young woman for a second that she was seeing the long-lost Bennet sister; she had simply been happy and excited and wanting to do the right thing for someone obviously injured that Mr. Stewart brought to her door. She clearly trusted Norman Stewart as much as Jane now did. Her face first registered shock at seeing her dress, then curiosity at seeing the group that was traveling with her, then confusion at the surnames of the children, then the biggest smile Jane had ever seen. Before she knew it, the ever excitable Miss Darcy had taken her arm, and was bodily dragging her towards the door, with Lucy and her charges trailing behind, and Amelia skipping ahead as if she owned the place. Apparently, the little imp was not as intimidated as Jane may have thought.

As they entered the hall of Netherfield, Miss Darcy was ordering the staff in every possible direction with half the instructions contradicting the other half. The staff just chuckled in amusement at her antics, and mostly ignored her and got on with what needed doing. Jane reflected that Miss Darcy had obviously won the staff's affections, and thought for just a moment that at least for today, all would be well.

Norman trailed behind until he was certain Miss Bennet had been set down in a comfortable chair, well attended, and he heard shouts of directions for bath, clean clothes, food all around. Then he thought his work her was done for the moment.

Just as he made a bow and started to leave, he heard Miss Darcy say, "Not so fast, Mr. Norman Steward. You will _not_ leave my house without a bite to eat, and you _will_ explain how you came about bringing me one of the long lost Bennet sisters!"

Apparently, Miss Darcy had abandoned the rules of decorum altogether, which was probably for the best.

With that, she turned to one of the footmen, instructed him to find another man to take care of Norman's mules and team, and bodily pushed the young man towards the breakfast room which was rapidly being filled with food.

Jane, finding both that she was famished, and that eating seemed to be the only thing that would slow down Miss Darcy's onslaught of questions, tucked into her plate with abandon, and she was happy to see Sir Norman doing the same. She had to admit, that Miss Darcy may be quite short on normal rules of decorum and society, but she _really_ liked the young woman.

Before she knew it, she was somehow ensconced into a hot bath, and she was assured Lucy was doing the same. The children had been shuffled off to get some much deserved rest, and for the first time in perhaps half a year, Jane Bennet felt completely relaxed. She knew the respite would be brief… a few hours at most, as she was _very_ concerned about her abandoned sister in Longbourn… but for the moment, she would savor a few moments of peace.

Miss Darcy made her coach and any other possible convenience available to Jane, and practically begged her to name a service she might perform. Jane found the young woman in every way lovely… if she ever settled down _just a little_.

Mr. Darcy on the other hand, she found to be quite the enigma. She had asked Miss Darcy to explain his motivations to her, but on this subject, the young lady was silent as the tomb, and not to be moved. Her brother's motives were obviously known to her, but she would not break a confidence. She only assured Jane that her brother had been looking for her for some time, and he would be ecstatic to learn she was back in Hertfordshire. That did not add up either, but Jane left the mystery of Mr. Darcy for another day.

After about the fifth repetition of Miss Darcy's request to name a service, Jane asked if Mr. Stewart might be excused from his normal duties to escort Jane to Longbourn. Jane did not quite know exactly _why_ she wanted him there, but she did. She was beyond happy to see Miss Darcy ask the young man if he minded the duty before assigning it. Once he assured her nothing would give him greater pleasure, Miss Darcy instructed him, to remain at Miss Bennet's disposal until she released him. This was more than Jane bargained for, but she felt no great need to complain.

And so it was, on this 11th day of June in the year of 1812 that Miss Jane Bennet returned to Longbourn. She was _not_ happy with what she saw, and her father was not all that happy with her reaction either, for that matter.


	46. Time After Time – June 19 1812

_A/N: Hey gang, so good to have notifications working again - YAY!. Just one chapter tonight, and it's kind of experimental. Let's see what you think._

* * *

"Good morning, sir! Since we lack a common acquaintance, may I be so bold as to introduce myself? I am Elizabeth Bennet, but I shall be pleased if you call me Elizabeth or Lizzy", Elizabeth Bennet said with a deep curtsey to the gentleman she encountered in the breakfast room of the inn.

The gentleman replied, "Good morning, madam! Fitzwilliam Darcy at your service. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, and I would be delighted if you call me Fitzwilliam or William."

With that, Elizabeth Bennet gave the gentleman perhaps the very first unplanned, unforced, natural, genuine and heartfelt smile of their entire acquaintance. For the very first time, she was happy to be in his presence. She did not know what the future would bring, but right here, right now, she was prepared to enjoy his company, and the morrow would bring what the morrow would bring.

For his part, he did not quite understand the ritual, but he had learned he did not really have to understand everything when it came to Elizabeth Bennet, so it was probably for the best.

As they sat down to break their fast, Elizabeth said, "William, I have been thinking all night of our past, and I have decided I am not really built to carry around old burdens. I am going to forget any past offenses, real or imagined, that we may or may not have committed against each other."

Darcy thought this might be a good idea, and said, "Do you propose we start anew today?"

Lizzy looked him over quite carefully, and said, "I think not. For my part, I believe I will start a fortnight ago."

Darcy thought that statement both provocative and puzzling, so as usual he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, "A fortnight?"

Elizabeth said, "Perhaps, although it is not an exact science, that seems a reasonable time."

Darcy asked, "Might I ask why?"

A serving maid brought by their breakfast and a pot of tea, which gave Elizabeth a chance to gather her thoughts. Darcy noticed, perhaps a bit smugly, which is to say unwisely, that she clearly remembered how he took his tea. Of course, he knew that about her as well, but that was to be expected.

For a few moments, both tucked into their food while Elizabeth gathered her thoughts. Finally, she said, "William, you professed that you have had months to think about this, but your thoughts came out all jumbled. I've only had hours, and mine are all a jumble as well, but I would like to tell you what I am thinking. First though, I must ask you a few questions, except…"

Darcy thought the whole crux of the matter might be in the _except_ , or it might just be that Elizabeth had burned her tongue on the hot tea. He helpfully prompted, "except…?"

Elizabeth continued, "The questions may seem either jumbled, impertinent, disconnected, or… well, to be truthful, they may seem mercenary."

Darcy was now well and truly intrigued, so he said, "Once again, I am not afraid of you, and you need not fear my worries about any mercenary tendencies. Unless I completely mistake the actions of the last half-year, you could make a good case that _I_ am the mercenary one. Unless you have been unusually subtle, I do not believe _you_ have been stalking _me_."

Elizabeth laughed at that and said, "I doubt my mother would relinquish the position of chief mercenary so easily, William!"

They enjoyed a laugh together, and were finding such to be easier as time went on. Perhaps in a few years they might even be comfortable in each other's company for as much as five minutes at a time. Elizabeth, for her part was starting to notice things that she had not seen before; and that she actually believed were not true before. He was now, and had the night before been unfailingly polite and kind to everyone she saw, from the hostler that took his horse, to the serving maids and the owner of the inn. His manners had changed so much that she would consider him nearly unrecognizable, and just the smallest part of her thought that just perhaps, she was partially… but not wholly… responsible.

Elizabeth shook herself out of her ruminations and said, "William, by your own admission, you have been searching for my sisters and I for some time, is that correct?"

"Yes"

"I would like to ask you the all-important question of 'why', but before I come to that, may I come back to why I chose a fortnight?"

Darcy agreed to the scheme.

Elizabeth asked, "I assume you have hired men to skulk about looking for our trail?"

Darcy did not particularly like the term _skulking about_ , but since it was entirely accurate, he simply nodded since it seemed to be a side point at best.

Elizabeth asked, "And how much have you spent on this quest?"

Darcy thought for a few moments and said, "I am not certain. Somewhere between £500 and £1,500, all told."

Elizabeth gasped at the amount, but did not comment on it. She continued her train of thought, "And you say you entailed Netherfield on the Bennet female line. What _exactly_ does that mean?"

Darcy thought the meaning was quite obvious, but to an outsider it seemed such an insane plan, maybe Elizabeth just did not believe the obvious. He answered, "I convinced Bingley to give up the lease. Then I purchased it outright. Then I had my attorney draw up documents entailing it on the Bennet female line. Essentially, you and your sisters have inherited it."

Elizabeth looked at him with her mouth open and said, "That was what it sounded like, but I mostly disregarded that last night, because the whole scheme is quite mad."

Darcy said, "Perhaps it is, but mad or not, it is done."

Elizabeth looked at him again, and said, "You know you will not escape my simple question for long, do you not?"

"Naturally"

Elizabeth said, "So here is the crux of my question. _How much did those two expenditures_ _hurt_ _you and your estate? How much pain will it cause you and your descendants?"_

Darcy still could not understand where this conversation was going, so he thought he should just avoid second-guessing her and answer the question, "The expense of looking for the Bennet sisters is of no consequence. I will hardly notice it. I have probably saved that much at the tailor by wearing these rags for months. Purchasing Netherfield will be financially painful, but by no means crippling. It is less than Georgiana's dowry for instance."

Elizabeth thought this was about as she had expected, so she said, "This brings me to my point about the fortnight. I could work my whole life and not make as much as you have paid just in searching for us, even without considering Netherfield; yet you consider it more than a trifle, yet less than a burden. That is the difference in our stations."

Darcy thought she was simply explaining the difference between rich and poor, which was obvious to anyone, so he asked, "And how does this affect your thinking, Elizabeth? I really cannot follow you."

He thought he would enjoy calling her Lizzy one day, but this was not the conversation to start the practice.

Elizabeth said, "What have you done for the last fortnight, or perhaps three se'nnights William?"

He answered honestly, "Take care of Netherfield and Longbourn, look after Pemberley, and ride around England looking for your sister."

Elizabeth said, "That is exactly my point. In the last fortnight, you have spent almost precisely the same time and effort protecting my family as I have. Time is the great equalizer, William. No matter how rich you are, you have no more time than I do, but _you_ have _chosen_ for the last fortnight at least, to spend nearly all of your time on _me_ and _my family_. I will not easily forget that. Gifting us with Netherfield is _impressive_ , but gifting me with your time and attention is _generous_. If you wrote me a letter telling me about Netherfield, I could scarcely be bothered to read it, and would take the gift for my sisters' sake just to help you ease your conscience. But you did not write a letter… you are  here, in person, looking for my sister. I find that makes all the difference in the world, so no, I will not start anew today."

Darcy felt the same type of heartfelt smile appearing on his lips, at this admission; but it did not last long. He finally said, "What if I did, and continue to do all of that, for selfish reason?"

"What can be selfish about protecting my family?"

He answered, "As you say, it might be an inexpensive way for me to assuage my conscience. Or my affection for you could be a delusion, which I pursue for my own pleasure, not yours. I have seen it done."

"As have I, but… I do not believe that of you."

Now it was Darcy's turn to be thoughtful again, and at length, he said, "Perhaps if I try to answer your first question about _why_ , it will become clear?"

Elizabeth agreed to the scheme.

Darcy said, "Do you remember what your sister Miss Mary said at the ball?"

Elizabeth said, "Much of it."

Darcy said, "I remember all of it, or at least the part that pertains to me. I remember it word for word.

 _"Mr. Darcy! Are you a child that you can't take a little tumble without losing what little manners you possess? I'm hardly surprised a bully like you can't handle a small misstep. I may be ungraceful, but at least I've never publicly insulted anyone in my life… well, before now anyway. I've never called anyone 'tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me'. I've never looked down my nose at an entire community. I've never whined because I can't keep to my feet like a man. It's hardly any wonder Lizzy can't stand the sight of you."_

Elizabeth looked over at him, wondering why he felt the need to repeat it; and both amused and impressed with how well he managed to mimic Mary.

Darcy seemed to look inward for some time, but finally, he looked at her and said, "It took me months to piece the whole thing together from my memory. That first night, all I could remember, bouncing over and over like an echo through my mind that would not stop; were the words, _'It's hardly any wonder Lizzy can't stand the sight of you.'"_

Elizabeth looked at him carefully, but did not feel the need to rehash the past any more, although he clearly did. This was important to him.

Darcy said, "Once those words finally sank in… finally got through my thick skull… finally made a dent… finally pierced my pride and reserve, do you know what I felt?"

Elizabeth said, "Anger, I would expect. Perhaps fury. Or embarrassment or shame. I must confess the possibilities are endless."

He said, "I felt _grateful."_

Of all the words Lizzy might have attributed to him, that would have been the _very last_ … at least, it would have been if she ever got that far, for it was not a word that readily adapted itself to the situation.

She sat with her mouth hanging open for a moment, and said, "Grateful?"

He sat back in his chair, and said, "Yes", then waited for her to think about it.

She finally opted for simplicity in speech and simply said, "Explain!"

Darcy sat back up straight in the chair, leaned forward, and unconsciously leaned across the table to grasp her hands in her own. Such as either her level of discomposure, or _just perhaps_ her growing comfort in his presence, that she noticed the move, but made not the slightest effort to disentangle her hands.

Darcy looked at her intently, as intently as he had the previous evening while professing his love and said, "I was grateful, because your sister… your apparently timid little mouse of a sister… whom everyone teased and made fun of… She taught me a lesson that turned me from an overgrown boy into a man."

He thought a bit more, and then said, " _I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was_ _not_ _taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. I was spoilt by my parents, who, though_ usually mostly _good themselves; allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for_ your sister, and you. _She_ taught me to _value_ others outside my circle, and _you_ taught me what it is to _love_."

Elizabeth sat staring at him yet again, wondering just what all was going on in his head. She asked the obvious, "Why did you not fall in love with Mary then?"

Darcy looked at her carefully, "I owe your sister Mary the greatest debt of gratitude in my life, and I will love her and look after her interests as well as my own sister whether you ever accept me or not, but…"

"Yes"

In little more than a whisper, he said, "I owe your sister a debt for opening my own heart to me, but Miss Mary could not have any of my heart, because it was already given away, and I didn't even know it."

Elizabeth sat in contemplation of that statement for some time, and felt that just perhaps, maybe, she was beginning to understand this enigma of a man sitting across from her, holding her hands unselfconsciously.

The two sat there in contented silence for some time, and then Darcy said, "Let's go find your sister."


	47. Best Laid Plans – June 18 1812

_It is a truth universally acknowledged that a_ simple plan is better than a complex one. _However little known the_ objective of the exercise, a wise person usually prefers simplicity to complexity as a matter of course. There is less to go wrong, and there are fewer ways to go astray. It is only common sense.

Mary Bennet was an adherent to that philosophy, so as she walked to the parsonage on the arm of her intended, she laid out the simplest of plans in her head, and even set herself the task of make a small list when she got to the parsonage. The plan went as such:

1\. Accept proposal

2\. Talk to parson to have the banns read on Sunday

3\. Go to Longbourn and reconcile with her family… or not… but at least be done with it

4\. Return to Hunsford in 3 weeks time

5\. Marry her intended in her parish

6\. Leave for the Canadas a se'nnight later

Even Mary, with her somewhat limited experience of the world was aware that such a simple plan _might not_ be sufficient. For example, she might have to have Mrs. Stewart make her a new dress while she was in Meryton, although if she managed to get in and out of Longbourn without too much fuss or bother, she could just bring one of her own. She imagined they were still there, as none of the other sisters would be caught dead in any of them.

Thus she reckoned, she might add step 3½ to take a dress from Longbourn, and all would be well. Once she had it worked out, she thought it might be best to discuss it with her betrothed. She asked, "Richard, I have been formulating a plan for our next month together, and it is really all quite simple. Would you like to hear my thoughts?"

Richard looked at her with a lopsided, boyish grin, and said, "You know battle plans rarely survive contact with the enemy?"

She looked at him in puzzlement, and said, "I am planning a wedding, not a battle!"

To that, she was a bit surprised when her intended started laughing uproariously. He laughed long and loud, to the point where she began to question his sanity… well, truth be told he had proposed to her after little more than a se'nnight, so his sanity was already in question. As he continued to laugh, she started looking at him with a most vexed expression. He just laughed harder, until he could start to see her getting peevish. At that point, he tried to get himself under regulation by slapping his thighs, but still could not keep from laughing. He next tried smacking himself on the side of the head with his hand, but that did not do the trick either. Mary got frustrated enough to stomp her foot, which just sent him off again. She finally settled on stomping her foot again, but this time she stomped it on top of his boot, which finally got him to settle down.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "Oh my love, you are such a delight. You have so much to learn."

She looked at him most crossly, and said, "Please enlighten me, sir!"

He grinned again, and said, "You are planning to marry the son of the Earl of Matlock in three weeks time, within five miles of his aunt, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and within the sphere of influence of my cousin **Anne de Bourgh** , and you think this is not a battle?"

He looked like he was about to start laughing again, but Mary prevented him from starting through the simple expedient of hitting him in the chest… with her fist… hard.

He sputtered instead of laughing, and looked at her with pure amusement on his face, but before she could say any more about her thoughts about Anne de Bourgh running the next month of her life, he elected to protect both his feet and his chest by cupping both of her cheeks in his hands, and kissing her until no sort of plan could possibly stay in her head, including any plan that involved standing upright.

When he grabbed her about the waist to prevent her falling over, he said, "I have to say, I love this feisty side of you; so long as I can use this trick to moderate your violence."

She gave him a chuckle of her own, and hit him again, but softer this time, just to see how reliable the mechanism was. It turned out to be quite a simple mechanism in the end. Yes, simplicity in all things was best.

* * *

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Most of the time, one of the two is determined to be less than advertised.

Mary and Richard arrived at the parsonage in good order, to unsurprisingly find Anne de Bourgh standing outside the door anxiously waiting for them. Anne knew Richard had been planning to escort Miss Little to the parsonage, and she wanted to be there in person to bid her goodbyes. It only took one glance at the pair walking arm in arm with sly smiles on their faces, for her to let out a scream like a banshee, and run toward the pair, grab Mary's hands and start dancing around, singing, "You are engaged! You are engaged! You are engaged!"

Mary thought this might just be overdoing it a touch, but all things considered, she found Miss de Bourgh's enthusiasm infectious, and soon joined in the merriment by dragging her fiancé into the circle.

Miss de Bourgh gushed, "Oh, Miss Little, I am so happy. I am so happy."

Mary beamed at the young heiress in good humor, and said, "I am glad you share our joy, Miss de Bourgh. It will be done quickly. We are to travel back to… well… back to Herefordshire today after we arrange for the banns to be read. We will be back in a fortnight or so to finish the plans for the wedding."

Anne looked at her in shock, and practically shouted, "You will do no such thing!"

Mary looked at her in astonishment. Did the young woman now disapprove of her in some way?

She stood up straighter; using the same look that had sent ruffians scurrying in fear; although she had to admit it was not quite so intimidating without her laundry paddle in her hand. She wondered if she could borrow her betrothed's sword. She finally answered, "Why ever not? It seems a perfectly sensible plan. What would you propose instead?"

Mary saw just a moment _too late_ that she had said exactly, precisely, unerringly the _worst possible thing_ she could have said.

With that, Miss Ann de Bourgh, heiress to Rosings, paragon of the county, nearly instantly turned into Mary's mother. Two minutes later, Mary thought she might be even worse.

"Oh that will not do! You must of course have a dress! No, your seamstress in Herefordshire is am I am sure quite adequate usually, but you must have a new dress from my modiste! I insist upon it! We must decorate the church! You must come to Rosings to tea, this very day! And your trousseau, we must deal with your trousseau at once! I will brook no argument! You must be at Rosings tomorrow for dinner!..."

After a while, Mary did just what she did with her own mother. She just quit listening, and turned her attention to the insufferable man she was to marry. He was just standing there looking on at the whole ordeal in clear amusement; apparently either deriving entirely too much amusement from the spectacle, or perhaps even with his military training, he wasn't quite ready to stand up to his cousin. Either way, he finally just shook his head and started chatting with Mrs. Collins.

Mary was only half-listening to Miss de Bourgh, so she had to quit woolgathering and ask her to repeat herself, "Pardon me, Miss de Bourgh, I am afraid I missed your last question."

Anne, not in the least put off said, "Perhaps this is a delicate question Miss Little, but I believe we will need to use your _birth name_ for the banns and the marriage registry."

Anne, looking chagrinned at her presumption, continued, "I am afraid, Miss Little Lion will not suffice. I am sorry."

Mary looked at the heiress critically, but before she could reply, Anne said, "I am on your side Miss Little, and you will be Mrs. Fitzwilliam in less than a month, but it must be done."

Mary glanced at the colonel, who had stopped talking with Mrs. Collins and was watching her with amusement. Once he knew who she was, he knew that Mrs. Collins had kept her peace but knew perfectly well too, so Anne was the only one standing outside the parsonage that was in the dark.

Mary said, "It is a small matter Miss de Bourgh. Everyone will know in a day or so anyway when I return to my father's house today."

She stood up a little straighter, made a decent attempt at a curtsey, and said, "Miss Mary Bennet! I am delighted to meet you Miss de Bourgh."

Anne de Bourgh stood stock still for a full minute; while Mary had to admit somewhat impertinently she was enjoying the heiress's discomfort, or at the very least enjoying her silence.

Suddenly, Miss de Bourgh started laughing uncontrollably, only to be joined a moment later by her cousin.

Fitzwilliam said, "Is this not perfect Anne? Is this not the biggest jest in the history of the world?"

Mary looked at them in puzzlement. She really could not stay vexed at either of them, no matter how hard she tried. They both clearly had good hearts, and they both were clearly looking out for her, so she said, "Could you please explain the jest to me?"

Anne decided to answer the question, and said, "Did you ever wonder why my cousin, Mr. Darcy was dressed in Mr. Savage's clothes when you took your tumble into the mud pit?"

Mary answered, "I long ago gave up all pretense of understanding what any man does, let alone Mr. Darcy."

Anne literally snorted at that one, sounding more like Lydia by the moment. How many more of Mary's family was to be embodied in Miss de Bourgh's personality before this was through? Would she become a goddess of serenity like Jane… perhaps an impertinent busybody like Lizzy… well, actually that question had already answered itself. Would she… Mary thought it best to abandon that line of thinking before she got to her younger sisters.

Anne said, "It was part of a very long effort that he has been engaged in for months, at considerable effort and expense, to find and apologize to the Bennet sisters."

At that, Mary stopped talking, or looking, or thinking, and just stared at Anne.

Anne continued softly, "He feels very guilty about how he treated you in Meryton, and wanted to make amends. He came here dressed in Mr. Savage's clothes to ask Mrs. Collins and myself to deliver a letter to your sister, Elizabeth who was at the Smyth estate."

Mary could not process all of that, but finally said, "Lizzy was here? Four miles away?"

Anne said quite gently, "Yes, she was. I wish I had known who you were."

Mary just said, "Lizzy was here?"

Her betrothed had by now come taken her hand in sympathy with her shock. Even he had not known Darcy came here looking for Miss Elizabeth, nor that both sisters were in such close proximity in the spring. It would appear that Anne played her cards close to the chest when required. He might need to remember that.

Anne, wanting to get the last bit out said, "One more thing, Miss Bennet… may I call you that?"

Mary said, "We are to be cousins, so you may as well call me Mary."

Anne liked the idea of an actual female cousin, and promptly asked for the use of her given name as well. She was now quite sad to be finally getting a cousin her own age who wasn't a brute; and would lose her in a matter of weeks. Perhaps, she should go to the Canadas with her cousin for a holiday.

She said, "Two more things, if you don't mind Mary?"

Mary nodded her head in acceptance.

Anne said, "I know I sounded quite mad a while ago, but _will you allow me to plan your wedding_? It will be small and elegant, and you need do nothing."

Mary laughed a bit and said, "I presume I must at least say some vows?"

Anne laughed at that, her good humor restored, and said, "Well, two more things then."

"Please proceed, Anne."

Anne said, "May I go back to Herefordshire with you to meet your family?"

Mary was slightly alarmed about that, but looked to Richard and saw him give his approval of the scheme with a nod.

Mary said, "Very well"

Anne, not quite finished said, "And the last thing, or perhaps the most important. My cousin Darcy is quite madly in love with your sister, Miss Elizabeth. He's nearly insane. Do you happen to know where she is? Or your sister, Miss Jane?"

Mary just shook her head in defeat, and said, "I didn't even know they were gone… or about… my younger sisters… troubles until about a se'nnight ago."

She reached for Richard's arm and said, "Richard, let us go talk to the parson. Anne, you have my leave to do whatever you think best. I trust you."

Anne, no longer really made for unhappiness since she had started recovering from the illness that plagued her most of her life, squealed in delight, clapped her hands, and left for her phaeton like a shot, shouting, "Fear not! I will take care of everything! You will come to tea this afternoon?"

Mary looked at her betrothed and said, "We are not to go to Herefordshire today, are we?"

He said, "Contact with the enemy my love."

She reached up and gave him a small caress on the cheek, and said, "Probably for the best." Perhaps in a se'nnight?"

Fitzwilliam nodded and said, "I must write to Darcy, immediately."

Mary asked curiously, "Where exactly is Mr. Darcy?"

The colonel chuckled in amusement, a trait Mary thought she would either love or despise depending on her mood very soon, and said, "Last I heard, he is at his new estate, but he was planning to leave about a se'nnight ago after the flood damage was repaired, searching for your other sisters. "

Mary asked, "His new estate?"

Once again, her beloved started chuckling, and she determined she would have to go with despising it today, but soon gave up all pretense to thinking about it all, when the colonel said, "Yes, his new estate… Netherfield Park"

At this, Mary had just one shock too many, and just shook her head, reached for his arm, and decided to enter the parsonage where Charlotte had entered several minutes past. She said, "The world has gone mad, my love. Netherfield! You do know what happened there, I presume?"

Fitzwilliam said, "Oh yes, I drug the whole thing out of Darcy, word for word. It took some brandy and cigars, but I did get the story."

Mary said, "And yet he still wishes to find me?"

Fitzwilliam said, "Aside for your sister who he's insanely in love with, you are the person he most wants to meet in the world. He feels he owes you an apology, but more important, he is very impressed by you. I believe he wants you for a friend."

Mary had to laugh, and said, "He is going to smack his head with his fist, at least three or four times when he figures out who he met in the mud pit."

Her betrothed threw back his head and started laughing uncontrollably, and this time she joined him, and refrained from doing him any other bodily harm. Anne was right, for this was indeed the biggest jest in either family's history.

As they walked towards the parsonage, Fitzwilliam said, "I believe I will have some serious bragging rights on my cousin. I am the first to find and propose to my Bennet sister!"

Mary thought that just a bit too impertinent, and said, "How do you know he didn't find her already? He may be proposing to her this very day?"

That brought him down a bit, but Mary, deciding she did not dislike being the object of such shameless boasting, said, "Do not fret, my love. Lizzy will never marry that man. Your boasting rights are quite secure."

Fitzwilliam looked at her and said, "Do not be so sure!"

Mary just laughed at that.

Fitzwilliam said, "One more thing, my lady"

"Yes"

"Darcy is not the only one who is impressed with you."


	48. Sturdy Boots – June 11 1812

_A/N: This chapter follows the famous brandy throwing incident that was all the way back in_ **Chapter 28: Shattered Expectations – June 11 1812**. My apologies, it's so clear in my mind, I forget it's been awhile. You may want to reread it if you don't remember it. It was kind of epic ;) **  
**

Wade

* * *

Jane Bennet watched her father shuffle out of his bookroom with his head hung low like a whipped schoolboy; which was actually not all that far from the truth. She breathed deeply, and smelled the scent her father had apparently loved more than his daughters… brandy… books… cigars. How had it all come to this? How had her world fallen so far apart in half a year?

Jane looked down and carefully stepped out of the pool of broken crystal at her feet. She was glad to be wearing her sturdy walking boots for the visit, as her feet would have been cut to ribbons in her normal slippers, and she doubted she would have even noticed in her fury.

As she picked her way across what she had decided was to be her office for the moment, she reflected back on a childhood game she used to play with her sister. It started with the phrase, " _what do you feel, what do you think, what do you know?_ "

She _felt absolute shame_ at being a member of such a family, and _remorse_ that she had not had the courage to do this half a year earlier, and even more that she had not had the foresight to check her sisters even before that. In that regard, she _felt_ that Lizzy, while being much too obsessed with shouldering all of the blame; was at least partly right. They all held a responsibility to the family, they had all failed.

She _thought_ that she had just completed the most difficult quarter hour of her life, and she definitely _thought_ that she did not want to repeat the performance; although she was prepared to do so, should the need arise. She _thought_ , or perhaps just hoped, that it would not be necessary.

She also _thought_ that one of walls of the study, very oddly, looked like it had a stain of… was that… blood?

She _knew_ three things.

The first was that the ordeal she had just completed had taken more strength than anything else she had ever done in her life; although perhaps, not in the way one would expect. Smashing the brandy decanters against the books and saying the harsh words to her father had been as easy as swatting a fly. When she saw the extent of the damage to her family and her estate, she had been consumed with a burning rage unlike anything she had ever experienced, or heard of, or even dreamed of. Her youngest sister sent away with an aging midwife… alone… 50 miles to Kent! Her second youngest locking herself away in her room for days at a time! No! Saying the words to her father was not the least bit difficult. This was all entirely too much. Chastisement of her father was as easy as breathing after everything Jane Bennet had been through.

What was difficult; so difficult it took every bit of strength she possessed, every ounce of her will, every admirable aspect of her character; was snuffing out the candle when it was an inch from her father's hated books! The temptation to purge the hurt of the last half year with fire was nearly overwhelming. Jane Bennet began, for the first time in her life to question her sanity; or perhaps just how much she could take.

The second thing she _knew_ was that her father had better not try her patience again. She would not be responsible for her actions, should he do so.

The third thing she _knew_ was that she needed Lizzy. She needed her  here. She could not do this alone, and she would send for her immediately. Of course, Lizzy would have to bring Lydia back with her, but it was time to put things aright, with the Bennet sisters back where they belonged.

Jane walked out of the bookroom, and was somewhat startled to see Norman Stewart standing there, arms crossed over his chest, simply watching what she did with a calm look on his face.

Jane said, "I am sorry you had to witness that Mr. Stewart. I am afraid that should not have been part of your mandate, sir."

With just a small grin at the 'sir', Norman replied, "On the contrary, Miss Bennet. I would not have missed it for the world. I must confess, I came in here feeling that I was doing my duty by keeping you under my protection. Now I can see that I had it entirely backwards!"

The bit of impertinence was just what Jane needed to give her a little chuckle, and release a tiny bit of the tension she was feeling all the way through her body. She said, "What did you think of the exchange? I will request your candor Mr. Stewart."

Norman looked at her and said, "To tell the truth Miss Bennet, I was watching in case I needed to intervene, but saw no call to do so. You were quit fierce. I am proud to have witnessed it."

Jane looked carefully at him, and wondered exactly what position he held in the neighborhood. He seemed to have a role somewhat beyond that of a simple carter, and she thought she might unravel the mystery later. Instead she asked, "And what intervention would you find appropriate?"

Norman said, "I don't honestly know, Miss Bennet. I imagine I probably would have put out the fire before it burned the whole manor house down, if it came to that. Beyond that, I know not what I would have done given acute need."

Jane said, "That answer will suffice for the moment Mr. Stewart. I need to go check on my sister and my mother, but I find myself quite disinclined to do so at present. Perhaps, you will indulge me with some conversation for a few moments while I prepare?"

Norman said, "I am at your disposal, Miss Bennet. That is my natural inclination, and I also do not fancy telling Mr. Darcy I was not diligent in my duties."

Jane asked, "Please tell me if I pry too much, but I am curious what your duties are, Mr. Stewart? How did you come to be employed by Mr. Darcy?"

Norman said, "I will answer any questions you may have Miss Bennet, but you do have leave to call me Norman."

Jane thought about that for a moment, and looked carefully at the man in front of her. He was definitely a man, and a good one; of that she was certain. He was the type of man she would trust for nearly anything instinctively. He was very young, more than six years her junior she would imagine, but his mother had done a much finer job of raising the young man than her mother had. It was odd to think that he was around Lydia or Kitty's age, but had been working and helping support his mother for several years already. Where her sisters were paragons of dissipation and vice, he was a man of honor and integrity. She would hope her children might come out half as well.

She said, "I think not, Mr. Stewart. I believe I will also not call you 'Sir Norman', although I doubt I will be able to stop Amelia."

Norman asked curiously, "Why not, Miss Bennet. I am of course happy either way, but must admit to being curios about your reasoning."

Jane said, "You have an unusual way of speaking for one who professes to be a _simple carter_ , do you not?"

Norman chuckled and said, "If you keep answering questions with more questions, we will never finish Miss Bennet. Mayhap, I can answer a few of them, but I am curious why you will not use my given name."

Jane gestured him towards the salon, and bade him sit. Propriety would demand she have a chaperone, but she was clearly long past those concerns now. When they were sat down, an unknown woman came into the salon and said, "I presume you are Miss Bennet?"

Jane answered curiously, "Yes, I am Miss Jane Bennet. I am the eldest."

The woman introduced herself as the new housekeeper, and asked if Jane would like tea, which she gratefully accepted.

Once the tea was on the table, Jane continued with, "I choose to call you Mr. Stewart to show you the respect I believe you have earned. I might call a half-grown boy or a stable hand by their given name; or perhaps a man I had an understanding with. You are a respectable tradesman, Mr. Stewart and I will treat you as such."

Norman thought about that for a moment, and said, "That makes sense, and I appreciate the sentiment. To answer your question, I talk well for a carter because my mother taught me to do so. She always told me if I sound like a poor man, I will probably remain a poor man. Life does not just hand out advantages, but people will treat you better if you speak and act worthy of respect. Good and respectful speech costs nothing."

Jane said, "I like your mother more and more. I would like to reacquaint myself with her."

Norman said, "I am certain you will see her next time you go to Netherfield."

Jane just raised her eyebrows in surprise at that, and said, "Netherfield?"

Norman said, "Yes, Mr. Darcy insisted we both move there during the flooding, and asked us to remain for a time."

Jane wondered just what Mr. Darcy was all about. He was definitely acting most peculiarly. She asked, "How did you meet Mr. Darcy?"

Norman said, "It was during the storm. I was on my way home when I espied Mr. Wilkes; I assume you may know him since he is one of your father's tenants; trying to prevent an overflowing creek from taking his cottage. I had a spade with me, so went to assist. Mr. Darcy came by on that giant black horse of his, and simply waded into the creek with us, took a shovel from your tenant and started helping. He sent Mr. Wilkes to Netherfield with instructions for the servants, and then we finished the job."

Jane was impressed, both with his willingness to help and Mr. Darcy's as well, and she offered, "Well, if my father has not thanked you properly, I certainly do, Mr. Stewart."

He blushed at the praise, but continued his tale, "After we were finished, I learned Mr. Darcy was a man of few words, but many actions. He looked at my poor old mule standing waiting for us, and with just a few words, he pointed us towards Netherfield. We put the mule in the stables with his horses, and then he saddled another horse and just gestured to it. We rode out to find the next task, and we rode together like that, day and night for a fortnight or more."

Jane was transfixed with the story, and asked, "I cannot believe all of this was done with no words at all."

Norman said, "I did not say he did not speak… just that he makes each word count, at least when talking to me. After a few hours, he knew what I could or would to for any situation, and a few gestures were all that was necessary for most things. If we needed to discuss something, we did so, but otherwise we just got on with it."

Jane said, "I must admit that I find all of this quite surprising. I apparently did not know Mr. Darcy at all!"

Norman said, "I believe you may have known the old Mr. Darcy. I know the man I worked beside for a fortnight, and have a great respect for him. I do not know what he was like before, but whatever his crimes were, if any, he is trying to make amends."

Jane said, "You seem to know a lot about him for a man that never says anything."

Norman chuckled and said, "I did not say he did not talk, just that he makes every word count."

Jane thought about that for a moment, and then asked, "You worked for him for a fortnight, and now you are fully employed?"

Norman said, "Mr. Darcy has come to trust me, I believe. He asked me to stay at Netherfield, with my mother for a time… and…

Jane looked at him at the pause, and gestured for him to continue.

Norman blushed beet red and said, "And… and… He asked me to just keep half an eye on his sister."

Jane smiled broadly, perhaps her first real, heartfelt, genuine smile in some time. So _that_ was the way it was. _Norman Stewart was interested in Georgiana Darcy._ She had no idea if the feeling was reciprocated, or if Mr. Darcy would approve if it was. She _really_ liked Mr. Norman Stewart, but she quite realized she liked him as a younger brother or cousin; not as a potential suitor. She _really_ liked Miss Darcy, or thought she would if she calmed down for five minutes. The old Mr. Darcy would hardly have even talked to the young man. The new Mr. Darcy apparently already treated him like a brother. Mr. Stewart and Miss Darcy were both young, and had plenty of time to learn what life was about. She hoped they would not take such hard lessons as her family had. Mayhap things would work out for the two or mayhap it would not, but she felt that either way, it should at least be interesting.

She said, "Mr. Stewart, I thank you for the conversation. It was very helpful, and…

Norman looked at her quizzically.

Jane continued, "Would you consider some advice?"

Norman smiled and said, "I would like that very much!"

Jane said, "Just be kind to Miss Darcy, Norman. Nothing else will be required for the moment. You are both young. You both have time."

Norman nodded in acknowledgement, and said, "I thank you Miss Bennet. It is sound advice."

With a sigh of resignation, she turned away from those happy thoughts toward duty.

Norman said, "Should we get on with your next task, Miss Bennet?"

Jane said, "Are you sure you are up for it, Mr. Stewart?"

With a nod, he stood up and offered his hand to help her up as well. Mrs. Stewart had not stopped at language, apparently. With a resigned sigh, Jane prepared to ascend the stairs and see her sister. Her feelings were a bit of a jumble. On the one hand, Kitty had made her own bed and was not finding it very comforting. On the other hand, nobody deserved to go through such an ordeal in such a house.

In the end, there was only one thought she could use to guide her actions. Good or bad, right or wrong, Kitty was her sister.

As they started walking from the parlor, Jane asked absently, "Where did Mr. Darcy go, Mr. Stewart?"

He looked at her in confusion, and said, "I thought you knew, but now that I think about it, there is no way you could. He is looking for you, Miss Bennet!"

Jane stopped cold, and said, "Looking for me?"

Norman said, "Yes, I hope I am not speaking out of turn. He has been looking for you and your sisters for some months."

Jane found this intelligence quite confusing, and said, "How do you know all that, Mr. Stewart?"

Norman grinned, and said, "I mentioned Mr. Darcy is a man of few words?"

Jane said, "Yes, I believe so."

Norman gave her a lopsided grin and said, "His sister, Miss Darcy is not!"

With that, they both laughed for a moment.

Turning more serious, Jane said, "I believe I owe you a debt, Mr. Stewart."

He replied curiously, "How so, Miss Bennet?"

Jane said, "My history with men has not been auspicious as of late. Between my father, my employer, and _the perfidious Mr. Bingley_ and the _Old Mr. Darcy_ as you call them, I had quite given up on men entirely. You have shown me that there are still those that are worthy. I am afraid it is your duty to redeem your entire sex, Mr. Stewart."

Norman laughed, "It is a heavy burden Miss Bennet, but I shall do my best."

With that, they turned to the stairs to go deal with Kitty.


	49. The Fox– June 19 1812

Elizabeth and William stared at the magistrate and his ever-present cigar, and tried to take it all in. It took Elizabeth a good half-hour to convince the man that Jane was her sister. Once that was accomplished, and he told her everything he knew, she found it most unsatisfying. Debtors prison for Jane's employer, Jane going west with three children and a maid in tow, apparently worried about their safety. After they left the magistrate's house, they walked back toward the inn, deep in discussion.

Elizabeth asked, "William, are the magistrate's fears well founded. Could creditors come after Jane or the children?"

She looked up at him and waited for his reaction. She was learning that he was not a man to rattle on. If he had something to say, he liked to think it through before he started talking… with the possible exception of anything important he wanted to share about his feelings for her, which he frequently blurted out half-crazily. She thought she could forgive him that lapse, and in fact, might forgive him much more. He was here, with her, looking for Jane. That was worth quite a lot.

At length, Darcy said, "It is possible, but in general I don't believe the creditors will make a search of all of Southern England for them. They may search the surrounding towns if it's convenient for their business, but there is little profit in going after children that have no money. Unless a creditor was convinced they were taken in by wealthy relatives, or they have significant funds hidden away, they should be safe enough. I would suggest they should change their surnames, though."

Elizabeth asked, "How is that done? I presume they are to be Bennets."

Darcy said, "For the most part, if your sister just starts using a new name, it will do for the moment. When we find them, I will have my solicitor work out the legal arrangements. We will also need to arrange a governess and schools of course, and settle a dowry on the girl."

Elizabeth found the matter of fact way he stated that he was just assuming he would use his wealth and position to solve her family's problems both insulting and endearing at the same time. She had to admit to herself that the endearing part of the evaluation was stronger than it would have been previously. She looked down at her hand on his arm, and thought that perhaps she was becoming a bit too comfortable with this man.

She said, "You should not think that every problem a Bennet sister encounters is yours to solve."

He looked at her in confusion, and said, "Why should I not take these steps. Absent my incivility, there is some chance none of this would have ever happened."

Elizabeth said, "Absent your incivility, something entirely different but just as bad would have happened. My youngest sisters were hunting trouble, and it would have found them sooner or later. The world's problems are not yours to solve William, and it is a bit on the presumptuous side to assume your help is needed or wanted."

Darcy looked as if he thought he perhaps thought he should feel chastened, but could not bring himself to the task. He said, "Are you saying it is not?"

Elizabeth could see the conversation going into the weeds, and said, "No, I am saying nothing of the sort. Just in future…"

Darcy looked at her to finish her thought, "Yes"

"… in future, _Ask, don't tell!_ We all know you are wealthy, and our big problems may well be small ones to you, but they are _our problems_. I know _now_ you will offer help when it is required. Just do not… um… I guess, don't make presumptions, and don't rub our noses in it."

Darcy looked chastened, and Lizzy was afraid she may have triggered another bout self‑recrimination or she may have pushed him away; neither of which were desirable. She gripped his arm tighter and dragged him to a stop, and said, "William! Whatever happens between you and I, you are now a friend of the family and we will appreciate any help you may give. Just please offer it a little more cautiously, and ask first."

Darcy nodded in understanding, and was rewarded with one of her rare, but becoming more frequent smiles.

Lizzy continued, "I do appreciate it William. I admire and respect your instinct to help where and when you can. Do not start chastising yourself again. Your instincts are correct; we just need to work on your presumption."

Darcy could not suppress a lopsided grin at the unconscious use of the word 'we'.

* * *

Continuing towards the inn, Darcy asked, "Where would Miss Jane go?"

Elizabeth thought carefully about it, and said, "Based on what the magistrate advised, I would expect her to go west for some days. Then she might move around in circles, trying to hide her trail like a fox. In the end, she would go to my uncle's house in London; or she might try to find me in Kent; or she would go back home to Meryton. She has been gone a month, so wherever she was going, she's probably already there, but I worry about what may have occurred on the way. She may be stuck in the middle, out of funds or encountering some other difficulty."

Darcy thought about it and said, "We can dispatch letters to all of those places. Georgiana is at Netherfield, and I also have a trustworthy employee, a Mr. Stewart, checking in on Longbourn regularly, so if Miss Jane comes back to Meryton, she will be taken care of even if your father is… unsupportive. You aunt and uncle were not home for most of her journey. Would she go to Longbourn if she went to their home and they were not about?"

Elizabeth thought about it for a bit, trying to put herself in Jane's shoes and said, "I'm certain my uncle's butler and housekeeper would allow her to stay for a se'nnight or two, but she would not be comfortable for long without the master of the house present. She would probably go to Longbourn, but since we know there are no dangerous beasts loose in Meryton, that would be safe enough. So if she went to London or Hertfordshire, she is probably already there, and aside from my father, probably reasonably safe."

Darcy chuckled and said, "Should she stumble on Mr. Stewart or my sister before she went to Longbourn, she would be lucky to escape Netherfield. Georgiana is quite anxious to meet all of you."

Elizabeth wondered about his sister. Caroline Bingley had gone on and on endlessly about her accomplishments, but it was clear as day that Miss Bingley was just playing for attention and didn't give two straws for the younger sister. Elizabeth thought she might well like to know this Miss Darcy."

Darcy asked, "Does our sister still believe you are in Kent?"

Elizabeth had to laugh at his unconscious use of the term 'our sister', but decided not to press it. He had made his wishes clearly known, and she really couldn't expect him to watch his tongue every time he opened his mouth.

Elizabeth replied, "I do not know. I wrote her from Kympton, but there is no guarantee she got the letter. Things appear to have been quite mad in that household at the end. If she did travel to Kent, she would be all right though. Mr. Frogson would be happy to host her, and get her to Kympton, or in the worst case, she could go visit Charlotte. If she went to Kent, she is probably already on the way to the Wolcott's by now."

Darcy asked, "Mr. Frogson?"

Elizabeth laughed, gave him one of her lopsided grins, and said, "That is a tale for the journey, William."

Darcy thought a bit more, and said, "My biggest worry is the amount of coin she had. If she was not clever and careful in her arrangements, she could easily run out halfway there. I think she had less than £10."

Elizabeth agreed that was possible, but they both also agreed that it would take some time to pick up her trail, and they would take the risk of leaving an even bigger trail in the process, which might undo all of Jane's attempts at stealth. Elizabeth had by some instinct kept using the name Gardiner while in town, and by chance Mr. Darcy had never had to introduce himself to anyone but the magistrate, so they were still unknown quantities.

It was a bit of a quandary. They could try to find her trail and insure she was not stuck somewhere, or they could just make assumptions about where she went and go try to find her at the destination where she had most likely already arrived. They went back to the inn for a cold luncheon of meat, bread and cheese with ale. They continue the discussion there, because neither of them had a good idea of the best plan, or even the least bad plan.

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy, for perhaps the first time in his life began to experience, and actually appreciate the value of anonymity. All of his life, he had been the heir, then the master, then the combination father and brother. Everywhere he had ever gone in his life, people already knew who he was, or the rumors followed him around. He could remember the whispers of ' _10,000 a year and most likely more'_ that seem to follow him everywhere he went. The night he had insulted Elizabeth at the Meryton Assembly, he could not remember if he was more peevish about Wickham, or about the gossip.

When he made his mad dash from Derbyshire looking for Miss Jane, he knew he would be spending days on horseback, so he dressed for comfort, not in his usual style. His most comfortable clothes were a decade old, and while certainly better than the woodcutter's outfit he borrowed from Mr. Savage in Kent the first time he encountered Elizabeth after the great debacle, it was certainly not anything remarkable. He left his beaver and hessians at home. Instead, he wore a set of old and comfortable boots and a woolen cap; and was dressed for distance. He did not realize at the time, that he was also dressed to be an invisible, anonymous, completely unknown quantity in a town far from home. In the end, he found that he quite enjoyed the peace and quiet, and thought he might prefer to do this for holidays in future.

As he walked down the street arm in arm with Elizabeth, in her tradeswoman's dress, people looked at him with only the mildest curiosity because they were strangers. In a shipping town, there were always strangers underfoot, so they did not attract the attention they would in an inland village. Everybody assumed, absent any other information that they were either husband-and-wife, or brother and sister. He had to admit he preferred the former, but would accept the latter if it suited his purposes.

The debate over luncheon went on for some time, and they finally decided to defer a decision, by simply wondering about the town listening for any rumors that might be useful. He thought that absent any worry about Miss Jane, he would be quite happy to wander around town with Miss Elizabeth for the rest of the month, or even longer. He was still nervous about Miss Jane though, so the pair wandered together when it seemed convenient and split up when one or the other needed to go places inappropriate or odd for the opposite sex.

On one such excursion, Elizabeth was walking on the street, and gasped in surprise. There, right in front of her, maybe two dozen yards away, was Jane, walking about the street as calm as you please. Elizabeth involuntarily let out a squeal of delight, hitched up her skirts, and ran after Jane as fast as she could. She caught up with her in surprisingly short order, right in front of her, and said breathlessly, "Jane… Jane… What are you still doing here?"

It took a moment of incomprehension on the part of both women, before they both realized that this was not in fact Jane. The woman was exactly Jane's size, height, weight, hair color, and in every other aspect you could see from a distance exactly like Jane, and she was wearing Jane's dress; but she was not her sister. The woman looked at her in some alarm, not used to being accosted in the street, and it took her a moment to figure out what was going on. Then, to Elizabeth's surprise, the young woman grabbed her arm, and drug her bodily out of sight, along the side of a millinery shop.

The woman stared at her intently for a moment, and then asked her the oddest of questions, "Tell me something about Miss Gardiner that nobody in this town could possibly know. Something I might learn if say… we were exchanging dresses."

Elizabeth, realizing this was some type of test, noticed that the other woman was a bit nervous and fidgety. She reached up her hand to the young woman, put her finger directly on her collarbone, and said, "She has a birthmark, right here."

The other woman sighed in relief, and said, "You must be her sister."

Elizabeth made the appropriate introductions, and was happy to meet Jane's former colleague. The young lady quickly explained everything she knew about the days Jane left and the days leading up to it. It sounded like Jane had worries even before the parents tried to flee. The story of the dress exchange completed the picture. Jane had asked her not to wear the dress for a full month, and today happened to be the first day she had ever worn it. She considered it good luck that they had managed to meet.

They talked beside the shop for a good half hour. Elizabeth thought about whether she should introduce her to William, but decided in the end that attracting more attention to the young lady would not be to either of their benefits, so they exchanged direction to her parent's home, and parted company. Elizabeth agreed that she would write the young lady once she found her sister and let her know how things worked out. Once Elizabeth had learned everything she could, the two bid each other adieu and went about their business.

Elizabeth hurried back to find Darcy and tell him what she had learned.

* * *

In the end, the pair decided on a compromise, which is to say, a plan that had all the worst elements of every option they had considered. Their strongest temptation was to simply take a coach to the east, and go find Jane where she most likely was. They could be in London in four days with a bit of effort, even less if they were really in a hurry, but they could not think of any way this would benefit Jane. If the missing sister had arrived safely at any of places she was likely to go, she would not need any assistance from them.

If however, she was stuck somewhere in the middle, it would take a very long time to work their way back. In the end, they decided to spend a se'nnight or maybe ten days following her as unobtrusively as possible, and then they would make for Darcy's townhouse in London, to work from there.

They dispatched letters to everywhere they could think that might be useful, including the Wolcott's, Netherfield, Gracechurch Street, Hunsford, and Mr. Frogson. Then trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, they packed their trunks, and got on the exact same coach Jane had taken a month previously.


	50. The Hounds – June 22 1812

_A/N: Hey gang, Happy Mother's Day, since I know that wish is appropriate for many of you. For my fellows of the male species, I suggest you wish the same to your wives and mothers._

 _Since I'm all warmed up on ODC, here is a longish chapter for you._

* * *

"Elizabeth, I have a confession to make."

Elizabeth looked over at the man, and said, "A confession, William?"

Darcy said, "Yes, you see…"

Elizabeth just looked at him expectantly. On this, their third day of traveling, they happened to be alone in the coach. They were long past worrying about such things as propriety, but she did find it a little strange to be alone with him for hours at a time. It was strangely… comforting. He no longer intimidated her. He was sitting across from her, looking intently. She gave him an encouraging look.

He continued, "I am not _entirely_ certain this plan is the _very_ best for our sister."

Elizabeth just grinned at that reference to ' _our sister'_. The man just couldn't help himself, and she found it a touch endearing.

She joined the fray with, "Are you saying you deliberately lured me into a bad plan, for some nefarious purposes of your own, sir?"

He chuckled at that and said, "No, I do not say it is a bad plan. It is probably as good of a plan as any. It's just that… well… I found the idea of traveling for you for a few days appealing, and that may have influenced me. The decision might not have been entirely logical and practical."

Elizabeth looked at him, and decided to ease his conscience. She said, "Since we are on the subject of confessions, I have one as well."

He looked at her skeptically.

She continued, "I confess I found both plans equally difficult to choose between, and… well, that is to say… I am not entirely unhappy to be spending time with you."

With that admission, the gentleman couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. He looked completely ridiculous, like say Mr. Bingley; and Elizabeth had to laugh at him for a moment.

For his part, Fitzwilliam Darcy just thought that things were definitely looking up. Not only did she no longer despise him, but she now actually did not mind spending time with him.

* * *

Elizabeth had the most difficult time keeping her countenance when she heard the greasy little parson tell his horror story of the little hoyden who had the temerity to accost him, a man of god, with a rock and a sling in a coach. The parson reminded her so much of the very worst aspects of her cousin Collins, without any of his redeeming characteristics. She wondered if Jane might have thought the same. She looked across at William and saw him having the same difficulties keeping a straight face, which made it even more challenging.

Elizabeth had to hand it to little Amelia; she had put the parson in his place. To think that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had once thought herself ever so clever at twenty years of age. During her cousin's visit, she had barely escaped with her footwear intact, and probably would have had a most unpleasant rejection of what would have no doubt been an abominable proposal, if not for Mary. And there was really no telling if her father would have protected her or not. His record for parental responsibility was not auspicious.

Now she found that a seven year old, had neatly taken care of a similar problem during the course of a single carriage ride, apparently without batting an eye. Elizabeth was well and truly enjoying the parson's tale of woe, and saying to herself over and over, ' _I really must meet this Amelia! I really must! I wonder if I can steal her from Jane?'_

Darcy was having similar thoughts. He had to hand it to Miss Jane. She seemed to be doing everything right. They were following her trail easily enough the first day or so, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Sometimes they were following a lady, her maid, and three gently born children. The next day, it was two maids or two goodwives and three farmer's children. Each day, the stories of which way they were traveling splintered in more and more directions. They had been nearly invisible before this incident, but he could not fault the group in any way.

When the parson went to get another flagon of ale, William asked, "How does she do it? She seems to be a chimera that changes at a whim. How is it done?"

Elizabeth looked at the formidable Master of Pemberley and had a good laugh at his expense, and said, "You do realize William, what we are actually tracking is gossip?"

Darcy looked confused, and said, "Gossip?"

"Yes, Gossip! A story planted here, a rumor planted there, and the story you want spread takes wings so long as it is sufficiently interesting, and there is nobody left who wishes to challenge it. Plant two different threads five miles apart and they will naturally meet in the middle and confuse each other, creating a third, fourth and fifth story in the process. Really, William, this is just basic rumor and gossip. It's practically a settled science", she finished with a bit of a grin at his expense.

Darcy thought about this a moment and said, "How did she learn this craft?"

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "I can hardly believe you would even ask such a question of the daughter of Fanny Bennet!"

At that, Darcy had his own laugh, at his own expense. He may be the master of a great estate, but he had a lot to learn from the Bennet sisters… and apparently, little Amelia as well… but then again, she was a Bennet sister now too, so he would stand by his original assertion.

* * *

It was after the disreputable parson went off to do whatever such men did after lunch, when Elizabeth heard some idle chatter between a serving maid and a friend that stopped in for a cup of tea. The talk was all about the little hellion that everyone was either in love with or afraid of or both.

"Yes, I saw the little rapscallion myself. Carried that sling and rock as if she were looking for something bigger to skin than that parson. Her brother looked a bit cross as well. Not a boy to be messing about with. Carry knives, they do… and they know how to use them!"

Elizabeth perked up at this, and listened more closely.

"Yes, and they're bound for the Americas I hear."

Another man at a nearby table said, "No, you do not have the right of it. It's India they're bound for."

The barman spoke up, opining that it was definitely the West Indies. She even heard mention of the Continent and Scotland. Thankfully, what she did _not_ hear was any mention of Kent, Hertfordshire or Derbyshire.

The talk swirled round and round, until Elizabeth heard the truly interesting bit.

"Masterson, her name was. Little minx didna want to tell anybody her proper name. I suspect as they are up to no good, I do. Had the look of criminals or tricksters if you ask me. But I heard her mention it between the brothers and the little one. Masterson, that's the name."

Elizabeth listened for another half hour, walking around the market square before she heard the most interesting bit.

"West to Hatfield, they were bound. Two actresses and three orphans stolen from the streets of London, I swear. West to Hatfield, and then off to New Zealand. Gonna sell the little ones to work on the sheep farms, I reckon."

With that, Elizabeth hurried off to find William.

* * *

Elizabeth burst into the stable to find William negotiating the use of a dogcart and horse. She looked at it curiously, and he just nodded at the hostler, then left to join her.

She said, "Why the dogcart, William?"

He replied that they had gone west as far as they had thought necessary, and he wanted a little more freedom of movement than they could get with stages. He would have obtained horses, but knew she was not up to riding very far. He could have gotten a phaeton or curricle, but thought both might attract too much attention. The dogcart could get them back to the previous stage stop with nobody the wiser, or they could go another direction if they chose.

She asked the obvious question, "Won't the hostler know where you went when you return it?"

He answered in his usual imperturbable manner, "No, I did not rent it. I bought it. I'll just sell it when we're done with it."

Once again, Elizabeth was trapped in the odd little world of Fitzwilliam Darcy, and wondered what it would be like to be rich enough to not even think of such an expense as worthy of much consideration. He probably would have bought a curricle or a carriage without much more thought. She then thought, it would probably be best if she did not dwell on that particular thought too awfully long.

She said, "Jane left a message. She was here a few days after she left. She is going north first, and then to Longbourn."

Darcy looked at her in astonishment, and started to ask how she knew that out of the confusing swirl of rumors they had heard, but then decided they would have many hours on the road to discuss it, so they went out to get the little cart, pick up a hamper from the inn, and be on their way.

He just barely managed to keep from puffing up his chest in triumph when he noticed that _his_ Elizabeth seemed to think nothing whatsoever of riding alone with him in a dogcart, for what might be days.

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet wanted nothing in the world more than a good fire. Yes, a fire would be just the thing. It would be so convenient. With just a little bit of fire, she could watch this hated dogcart burn to the ground, and use the flames to warm her aching backside. The bench was hard as a rock, the cart was not slung particularly well, and she found herself lurching and grabbing William's arm for support more often than she might have wanted to. Worst of all, she wasn't _entirely_ certain some of the lurches were not deliberate, but she was not about to give the insufferable man the satisfaction of saying anything.

Five days in the cart, traveling from place to place had taken a toll on both travelers. Jane was becoming slyer by the day. Her trail would be entirely lost by now if she had not left little breadcrumbs here and there that nobody but Lizzy would understand. They took a farm cart here, a grain cart there, rode an empty cart back again, and even seemed to have walked five miles between towns just to further muddy their trail… twice. Once Fitzwilliam saw how the system worked, he was impressed all over again with the Bennet sisters.

For her part, Lizzy found that this man she was traveling with, the disheveled tradesman with an ambiguously related female was _so_ different from her perceptions of him as to be shocking. She wondered how much of it was a change in his behavior, or how much his behavior in Hertfordshire might have been outside of his normal comportment. He must have been distressed beyond belief at his sister's near miss, and then to have to put up with Mr. Bubbly Bingley must have been difficult enough, even without throwing the Perfidious Bingley Sisters into the mix. And truth be told, she could still hear her mother's shrill voice talking about the party's income in a voice that could be heard in Hatfield… the real Hatfield. Yes, there was a good chance his behavior in Hertfordshire was considerably different from what it might have been in say Kympton or Lambton at the time.

Whatever the cause, whether he was reverting to his normal character, or whether he was a changed man might not be known for some time, but of one thing she was certain. She _liked_ this man that was traveling with her. He was unfailingly polite and kind to everyone they met. He always had a few pennies or shillings in his pocket through some magic to leave a bit for the poor on the way by. He always paid fair value for their lodging, meals and anything else they needed. He even did not complain when he found an inn full to the rafters and they had to sleep in the common room next to the fire. He was deferential to pensioners and widows, and would always try to perform some small service for them. Yes, she actually liked _this_ Fitzwilliam Darcy quite a lot.

They were traveling between two market towns, feeling a mix of dejection and elation. Jane and her charges had shown themselves clever and resilient, and neither party had any doubt they were now sitting comfortably in Netherfield or Cheapside; or perhaps Jane was going toe to toe with her father. Elizabeth was no longer really worried about Jane, so they had decided to go to the next town with a mail coach, and make best speed to London to check in with the Gardiners and clean up; then off the wherever Jane actually was. Elizabeth believed the Gardiners would have heard from Jane by now.

Elizabeth asked, "William, I wonder something, and I'm amazed I haven't asked this all these days. Did you ever make any progress in finding Mary?"

Darcy had been momentarily distracted with thoughts of his cousin, or maybe cousins, and Bennet sisters. His cousin the colonel in particular seemed like a good match for one of the sisters, and a meeting must be arranged immediately. He had to apologize and ask her to repeat the question.

He sighed in resignation, and said, "None at all. Her trail ended two days after she left Meryton."

Elizabeth sighed, and thought that there was one more sister she needed to find.

Darcy, seeing her look of consternation thought to distract her with another tale. He said, "don't worry Elizabeth. We will find her. I do have a funny anecdote do distract you though. Do you remember the day I asked Mrs. Collins to deliver a letter to you?"

Elizabeth just looked at him as she would a schoolboy who had not even begun his lessons, and he just grinned back at her, and said, "Of course, you do! That was the beginning of the Famous Frog Escapade."

Elizabeth laughed at that. Apparently Tradesman Darcy had a sense of humor.

Darcy continued, "That same day… and you will not believe this…"

Elizabeth laughed and said, "After our tale to date, there is nothing you could say that would possibly shock me. We have done it all!"

She almost missed his whispered reply of, ' _Not quite'_.

He continued, "Well, that day I was most distracted, as you might imagine."

Elizabeth grasped his arm in a quite familiar way, and said, "I can imagine. I was as well, but William!"

"Yes"

Elizabeth said, "I do not know if I apologized for that, but I am sorry I did not listen to you then. I at least owed you that civility, and it may have saved us some consternation and trouble."

William looked at her carefully before returning his attention to the horse and the road, and said, "You had no cause to trust me, and I should not have been so presumptuous. Let us just agree that day might have gone better, but we are here now, and I am content with how it worked out in the end. Had you talked to me, you would not have met the Wolcotts! Things have not worked out badly, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded, and thought they might just be done with that particular topic. She said, "Please continue."

Darcy said, "All right, here is the shocking part. That same day, in my distraction, I collided head on with a laundress and sent us both tumbling into the mud."

Elizabeth looked at him in shock, and said, "Into the mud!"

"Yes, a fairly nasty puddle, six inches deep in mud at least."

Elizabeth laughed, and laughed, and laughed. She could not get the idea of Fitzwilliam Darcy, laying in his beaver and hessians, six inches deep in mud, with some poor laundress on top of him.

She finally slowed down her laughter for just long enough to say, "I imagine your valet came near to apoplexy. Did you have to pension him off? Did you have to do a ritual cleansing of your waistcoat, perhaps burn your beaver at the stake?"

He laughed and said, "That was the odd thing. I was not wearing my clothes. I preferred not to let my aunt know I was there, so I was wearing some clothes I borrowed from a woodcutter."

That was it. Elizabeth dissolved in laughter again, and just could not stop. The image was just too rich for words.

She stopped laughing abruptly though, when she thought that there were two people in the mud, and said, "Oh my goodness! The laundress! I am mortified that I was laughing at you and not thinking of her at all! Was she all right? I hope you set her at ease and compensated her somehow."

Darcy chuckled and said, "Yes, she was quite all right. More than all right in the end! I asked to perform some service for her, since the fault was entirely mine. She asked for help with a sick friend. I sent my personal physician to care for the woman, and she was quite satisfied with the exchange… more than satisfied. I expect my physician to be in London with news of how the young woman fares."

Elizabeth said, "I am glad to hear that."

Darcy laughed himself, and said, "I must have been the most ridiculous sight in Hunsford, but at least Mrs. Collins refrained from laughing at me during the debacle."

Elizabeth laughed again, and said, "Charlotte saw that. You are fortunate the next service was not a two hour diatribe about the perils of mud to the soul."

Darcy laughed and said, "If so, he would have missed the mark. I understand the laundress walks three miles to attend another parish."

Elizabeth sighed and said, "I would walk ten miles to avoid one of my cousin's sermons, so this laundress sounds like quite a sensible woman."

Darcy said, "Actually, she has quite the reputation in Hunsford. She apparently was accosted by some ruffians, and she simply thrashed them within an inch of their lives with a laundry paddle. They call her 'Little Lion', and everyone in Hunsford knows her. She is quite the local celebrity."

Elizabeth said, "I should like to meet this Little Lion someday."

Fitzwilliam said, "Would I be overly presumptuous to suggest that I will arrange it?"

Elizabeth just laughed, and hit him in the shoulder with her fist, quite hard. He just laughed and whistled at the horse.

At length, he said, "You know, the Little Lion is quite fierce. In fact, she reminds me of some other sisters I know… … … … She… … … She… …"

Elizabeth looked up at him, as he had stopped talking in mid-word, and was staring inwardly, trying to recall some fuzzy memory. She had enough sense to just watch the road and make sure they stayed on it, as Fitzwilliam had entirely lost any attention to the team, and she reckoned he would be back when he was ready.

She kept watching his face as he worked whatever it was through, then was surprised, and then alarmed when he started smacking his forehead with his hand, while repeating over and over and over, "Stupid… Smack… Stupid… Smack… Stupid… Stupid… Stupid…"

She finally decided he would either have to stop asserting his stupidity or explain it in detail, so she just hit him in the arm again. He apparently was not _too far_ gone in his self-recriminations, since she only had to hit him three times.

He finally stopped hitting himself in the forehead, and started laughing, which was an improvement… perhaps. She left him in peace for a few moments, and then he settled down.

He said, "At the time, I vaguely thought she reminded me of someone. I _just this very moment_ remembered who she reminds me of… because, I actually know her. This _Little Lion_ might more properly be known as _Mary Little Lion Bennet_."

Now Elizabeth took off in her own laughing fit, giggling uncontrollably. A second trip through infamy, and apparently a pigsty with the ever formidable Mary Bennet. The bard himself could not have dreamed up a more ridiculous anecdote. _Her_ Fitzwilliam hunting for a Bennet sister for months, only to miss her when she literally fell on top of him. This was just too rich for words.

Surprisingly, when they both settled down, Elizabeth found her backside did not hurt quite as much, nor did the ache in her soul. She now knew where all of her sisters were, more or less. They would all be reunited one day. She would take advantage of the generosity of the man sitting beside her, and all would be well no matter how things worked out between one Bennet sister and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Yes, all would be well.

She was pulled from her reverie by her companion speaking softly.

William said, "Please do not find this presumptuous Elizabeth, nor think that I am becoming your mother, but I would dearly like to introduce my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam to your sister."

Elizabeth had to laugh at the idea of _Matchmaker Darcy_ , but said, "There is no harm or presumptuousness in an introduction, William. Which sister did you have in mind? I have four, you know… and that's not even counting little Amelia", she finished with a bit of a giggle.

Darcy laughed at that, and said, "Any man would be very lucky to meet _any_ of the elder Bennet sisters. I cannot predict the heart, but I suspect he might like Miss Mary."

Elizabeth laughed, and then said, "Well, by all means, Mr. Matchmaker. Let us introduce them."

Fitzwilliam said, "I will write to my cousin immediately."


	51. Life's Little Frustrations – June-July 1

_June 19, 1812 – Longbourn_

Jane Bennet had come to think of herself as a formidable woman, with practically no limits. She had successfully left her home, acted as governess to three children with an abominable set of parents, taken charge of said three children under severe pressure, traveled 400 miles with three children and a maid on £10 while confusing her trail sufficiently that nobody but Lizzy would ever be able to follow. She had accosted her dilatory father in his own den of iniquity, and was now effectively the Master of Longbourn. Yes, Jane Bennet was indeed a daunting woman, not to be trifled with, not to be opposed, implacable in her purpose.

As such, she was quite surprised to find _she had her limits_. There were things that were absolutely beyond her ability to endure. This realization came after about two hours of listening to her sister Kitty cry, wail and carry on as if the entire world had conspired against her; rather than her being a victim of her own foolishness.

Jane Bennet, for the first time, regretted that they weren't all brothers. Should Kitty be a brother, she could simply drag him outside by the scruff of the neck and settle the matter with fisticuffs. Were he a brother, she might even dispense with dragging him outside, and perform the office right here in the bedroom. Were he a brother, she would at the very least be able to shout him into order without the rest of the household staff deserting, en masse.

Instead, she was stuck listening to this spoiled, wailing child, until she reached her _absolute_ limit. She had tried patience, she had tried consoling, she had even tried screaming at the girl, and nothing did the trick. Everything just sent the poor girl into a deeper bit of wailing, and Jane ended up quite at the end of her capacity, not sure whether she should be feeling anger or sympathy for the wayward sister.

Finally, she had enough. She left Kitty to her wailing for a few moments, and stepped out to the hall to consult with her new confidant.

Jane asked, "Mr. Stewart, what tasks are you prepared to engage on my behalf. I am thinking of an extremely unpleasant one that may well be beyond your remit."

Norman looked at her and said, "As far as I am concerned, and I believe both Miss and Mr. Darcy would concur, I work for you now, Miss Bennet. There is no task I will not undertake. You would not ask anything dishonorable of me, and that I am afraid is my limit. What do you have in mind?"

Jane thought through what to say, and said, "Mr. Stewart, I feel like a soldier who is overmatched, overrun, needing reinforcements."

"How may I assist, Miss Bennet?"

Jane continued, "Dealing with my sister is clearly beyond my capabilities. I am afraid I need a… a… "

Here she stumbled over her words, not knowing exactly which word would meet her needs.

She finally continued, "…I need someone who has the skills to deal with a problem of this sort. I need someone with the inclination, the aptitude, the desire, the patience, the fortitude and the training for such a difficult task. I need someone to undertake the most unpleasant task of bringing this recalcitrant sister back into the fold."

Norman asked curiously, "Where shall we find such a person?"

Jane gave the young man what she suspected was a bit of an evil grin, and said, "This job is too much for me. _This is a job for Georgiana Darcy and Amelia Bennet._ Would you be so kind as to take her to the coach, carrying her bodily if necessary, and deliver her to Netherfield? Miss Darcy expressed interest in meeting the rest of the Bennets. Perhaps she will realize her mistake too late."

Norman laughed at the absurdity of the plan, but agreed it was the best they had, and proceeded to do as he was bid. He had no idea if Miss Darcy would be thrilled to be of use, mortified at the state of the second youngest Bennet girl, or just confused; but he had faith in both women and even more in Little Miss Amelia, so he felt confident all would be well in the end, although the middle might be on the rough side.

As he prepared to leave, Jane said, "I depend on you to tell me if I ask too much Mr. Stewart. Should Miss Darcy not be up to the task, or even if she is disinclined, just bring Kitty back and I will deal with her, but I think my presence might inhibit Miss Darcy from being able to help."

Norman laughed, and said, "I think Miss Darcy is finding life here a bit too dull and easy. She was perhaps expecting more excitement than had been delivered thus far. I believe she may well relish the challenge."

Jane said, "I hope so, Mr. Stewart. I hope so."

* * *

 _July 2 1812 – Kent_

 _Nostalgia_!

Now there was a £10 word that Lizzy would have loved to use. Mary Bennet had never thought she might use such a word, and in such a context; but such was the case. She was experiencing _nostalgia_ for her washtub. At this very moment, standing over a steaming tub, sweating like a goat, stirring the laundry for hours at a time, in retrospect seemed like the ultimate luxury.

Instead, she was stuck, trapped, entombed in the very worst place she could imagine. Yes, at the insistence of her new relentless taskmaster, she was stuck at the modiste, having a third dress fitted. She wanted to scream at the tedium of the whole process. How many dresses did a colonel's wife need, and why did they need to be fitted so carefully? What was wrong with her old dresses?

With a start that earned her a poke in the leg with a pin, she realized she had said the thought aloud, and her life was effectively over.

Anne de Bourgh replied, "Since you are going to the Canadas, and will be living rough with the army, I believe you might just get by with only six. I would not go so easy on you if you were staying here… but then…"

Mary groaned at the very words, 'but then'. They always presaged yet another one of Anne's brilliant ideas. After a fortnight in each other's company, they were long on a given name basis, at Anne's insistence. They were to be cousins after all.

The only bright spot on the horizon was that this ordeal would end eventually. She really liked Anne, and thought she could love her as a cousin should she ever settle down; but she was happy to know she would be married soon, and would escape more dressmaking by the simple expedient of separating herself from her new cousin with an ocean. Anne would not follow her to the new world, would she?

Anne interrupted her ruminations by remarking, "Oh Mary, did I mention my mother is away from Rosings! You must come for tea, this afternoon."

Mary refrained from groaning aloud, because all it ever accomplished was either more enthusiasm from her cousin, or laughs of delight from the insufferable man she was to marry, or both.

She, probably ill-advisedly asked, "Where did your mother go? She apparently did _not_ approve of my betrothal plans?"

She reflected that must be the biggest understatement she had ever uttered. Lady Catherine's displeasure with her nephew was now the stuff of legend. Everyone she knew in Hunsford had the story from one servant or another, although some of the rumors were _probably_ a touch overdone. It did after all seem unlikely pistols or swords had been involved, but if words were weapons, Lady Catherine had used her entire arsenal. Fortunately, after facing down French troops in Spain, the colonel was not to be outmatched by his overbearing aunt, and he simply allowed her to vent her spleen as long as necessary, then repeated what he had said at the beginning; apparently several times.

Anne said, "I am sorry about that. You would have been safely in Hertfordshire without my intervention."

Mary took pity on the young woman. She was an odd mix to be sure. Pale and sickly looking, she had according to her own words been quite ill most of her life. Trapped in Rosings with a few nursemaids, governesses and her mother, it was a wonder she was still sane; so a little bit of overenthusiasm could be tolerated.

Mary said, " _Do not fret Anne._ None of us should have to apologize for our relatives. We all have an embarrassing lot, do we not? And besides that, remember that my visit to Hertfordshire is not necessarily going to be the highlight of my year."

Anne giggled at that. It turned out, that after so many years of being sick, she was no longer really up to the task of remaining unhappy for long. With her health on the gradual mend, she had even started taking short walks with Mary about the area, and she was looking forward to a bright future.

Mary said, "Perhaps once this hateful process is complete…" At that, she gasped at her incivility and looked at the modiste in mortification, but the lady said, "Do not fret Miss Lion Soon To Be Fitzwilliam. I take no offense."

Mary smiled at the woman, and nodded her thanks. The modiste for her part could not possibly take offense to the woman who had helped so many in the village this last half-year.

Mary said, "Perhaps, now that your mother is missing, we should make our escape to Hertfordshire?"

Anne agreed to the scheme. All that needed to be done to prepare a wedding to be proud of had been done, and absent the bride and groom, all was ready.

As they walked out of the shop, she asked, "Anne, I'm wondering. Your mother is missing, but do you happen to know what happened to Mr. Collins? He seems to be missing as well, and neither his wife nor my betrothed seem to know where he's off to.

Anne just shook her head, and they went off to try to hunt down said betrothed and drag him off to tea with them.

* * *

 _July 2 1812 – Longbourn_

"Mr. Stewart, I presume you have removed my father's pistol from the manor house?", asked Jane Bennet as she stepped down from her horse, or more like fell from her horse at the end of her first fortnight as _Master of Longbourn_.

Norman replied with a puzzled look, "Yes, ma'am! The rest of the firearms as well, plus the knives. They're all stored safely at Netherfield. Why do you ask?"

Jane said, "Because that is the only thing guaranteed to keep me from shooting this horse. I never want to get on another horse as long as I live."

Norman laughed uproariously. He had to admit that even if his interests lay elsewhere, he _really_ liked Miss Jane Bennet, and he was looking forward to meeting the man who could keep up with her; if such a man existed.

In truth, after a fortnight of riding around Longbourn, Jane thought her father was in more danger than her poor abused horse; although he _finally_ seemed to be coming back to himself. The first se'nnight had her fearing for his life and his sanity. He was nervous, irritable, shaking uncontrollably and constantly yelling at some mysterious people whom he thought ready to do him harm. Jane finally just locked him in a room to let him sort himself out… or not. The first se'nnight involved a lot of flying objects striking the wall, and a lot of shouting and cursing; but thankfully, he had seemed to settle down now. He was not the father of her youth, but he was at least not a raving madman… for the moment.

Her mother… well, the less said about her mother the better. She had apparently been relying on her "salts" almost from the start of the debacle, which Jane strongly suspected of containing Laudanum. She simply found every possibly supply of them in the house, and burned them along with all of her father's liquor in a great bonfire in the garden within a few hours after packing Kitty off. Then she locked her mother in a different room, and let her sort herself out. It turned out, that patience was not Jane Bennets strong suit.

Jane asked, "Have you heard how my parents are doing?"

Jane could hardly stand the sight of either of her parents, and thought her disapprobation was not going to make either of them any better, so she depended on Mr. Stewart to look in on them and report on their condition. She thought she was asking a lot of the young man, but he took it all in stride with no apparent effort. Jane hoped Miss Darcy know what a gem she had.

Norman looked sad and said, "Both seem to have desisted from breaking things, at least for the moment. I will look in on them again directly. Perhaps it is time to let them out?"

Jane said angrily, "With a third of the tenants gone, and half of those remaining not even properly planted, my father will be lucky if I ever let him out. The estate will be lucky to survive this debacle. If I did not have Miss Darcy offering her steward to help me, I would have not the slightest idea what to do."

Norman just waited patiently for the storm to pass, as it always would, and Jane finally relented, "All right. Shall we invite them to breakfast in the morning? Perhaps Miss Darcy would like to join us, although I cannot think of any possible reason she would."

Norman snorted again, and said, "You could not keep her away, I'm afraid." Then he asked, "And the children?"

Jane had hardly had any time at all for the children, but Miss Darcy assured her that all was well and everyone, including Miss Darcy herself, was quite happy at Netherfield, so Jane was not overly worried.

She answered, "Not just yet. But I will go visit them tonight… and Kitty too, I suppose."

Kitty was actually the only bright spot on the horizon. Miss Darcy had taken her in the first night, stuffed her in a bath, stuffed her into bed, and then waited her out. The next day she started her assault on the poor girl, with Amelia as her accomplice, and a fortnight had done wonders. Jane thought she might even be able to talk to the girl tonight. She was still seething with anger, but she was her sister, and she supposed everyone should be allowed one lapse in life.

* * *

 _July 2 1812 – Rosings, Kent_

"Mary… Anne. Here I am. Where is this famous tea that seems ever so important?"

Mary resisted the temptation to hit her betrothed… too easy, and his lopsided grin showed that he was expecting it. She simply replied, "You will have to earn it sir. Your tardiness does you no credit! Are you late to your battles as well? Perhaps _you_ are the entire reason the Little General is taking over the continent?"

Fitzwilliam laughed, and said, "You, being the expert on nicknames that start with _'Little'_ are in a much better position to judge."

With that, Mary laughed and admitted defeat, and deigned to allow her intended to sit down to tea with her and her cousin. She was in what she would later boast was the most hideously ugly room she had ever seen in her life. It was apparently decorated with an eye to expense over good taste, or even good sense. It was no wonder her cousin Collins was so enamored with it.

Fitzwilliam said, "Even though you have graciously acceded to my superior repartee, I will earn my keep, even though my honor as an officer and a gentleman demands I hold my ground."

"Pray tell me sir, what have you that would earn such approbation. What have you so important as to disregard your honor so callously?" Anne asked impertinently.

Fitzwilliam gave both ladies an evil grin, and said, "Gossip!"

Both ladies, deciding that the only thing they could do is play along, clapped their hands together like schoolgirls, fluttered their eyelashes in perfect unison, and said, "Please, good sir. Please enlighten us poor ignorant females."

Fitzwilliam said, "I have, right here in my hands, the most alarming communication. It will shock you. Shock I say! It would appear that our mutual cousin, one Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy has finally, at long last, after threatening to do so for quite some time; gone stark raving mad!"

With that, Mary said, "Mr. Darcy! Other than his propensity to roll around in the mud with laundresses, what evidence do you have to offer, good sir?"

Fitzwilliam leaned forward in his chair, and said, "It is said, that he leased Netherfield."

Mary replied, "Truly a sign of a lack of good sense, but hardly madness."

Fitzwilliam said, "Ah, but here's the rub. He only told Bingley that as a red herring to distract the ignorant."

Mary lost all playfulness, and said, "If you are looking for an example of the ignorant, you chose well, sir. In fact, that man would do for any number of bad examples."

Fitzwilliam saw that _may not_ have been his best strategy, decided to try another.

"Yes, but do you know what he _actually did_?"

Mary and Anne both shook their heads in ignorance.

Fitzwilliam, savoring his triumph gallantly replied, "He bought it! He purchased Netherfield."

That was it. His triumph was complete. Richard Fitzwilliam had rendered both his betrothed and the formidable conservationist Anne de Bourgh into complete silence.

After some time, Mary said, "You win, sir! You are correct. He is mad."

He said, "I thought you might agree. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Darcy has been playing his cards close to his chest."

Mary asked, "What has he been doing with it?"

Fitzwilliam said, "That's the strange part. This letter from Georgiana says there was severe flooding in Hertfordshire a month ago."

Mary said, "Charlotte mentioned, that but I forgot about it in the press of other revelations."

Fitzwilliam said, "Apparently, he spent a fortnight there fixing the problems at both Netherfield and Longbourn, and then left for Pemberley, apparently to meet your aunt and uncle, but Georgiana will not tell me why. Little Imp!"

After a moment more, Mary said, "We must go to Hertfordshire at once."

"Agreed", said both Anne and Richard at the same time.

They were just jumping up from the table, when the door opened, and the footman tried his best to announce, "Mrs. Collins", but he only got halfway through before Charlotte burst in waving a letter in her hand, practically shouting, "You will not believe it. This is the most wonderful news! Or maybe the most confusing news! Or, well… see for yourselves!"

The other three inhabitants froze in place to hear the news. Anything on top of Fitzwilliam Darcy being completely mad seemed like it would have to be of lesser importance, but they would give Charlotte the benefit of the doubt.

Charlotte said, "Your sister Jane has returned to Longbourn, and apparently locked both of your parents into separate rooms, burned all the liquor in the house, and taken over Longbourn. Oh! And she apparently has three children now!"

Wonderful, or confusing or not… it was at the very least shocking. Both Mary and Anne practically fell back into their chairs. It was left to the battle hardened veteran to slay the foe of incivility.

"Please, sit and have some tea, Mrs. Collins and tell us all about it."

Charlotte said, "I will need to go to Hertfordshire with you, if you don't mind Colonel."

Fitzwilliam, ever the gallant gentleman, said, "It will truly be a hardship to travel fifty miles with three lovely ladies, but I have been trained for hardship, and I shall endure."

Anne managed to restrain herself from throwing something at him or dumping a pot of tea in his lap. His betrothed was much too deep in thought to even answer.

Turning serious, he said, "Shall we leave at first light?"

Nods answered him, so he ventured, "Now, Mrs. Collins, please enlighten us."


	52. For the Want of Tongs – June 27 181

_A/N: Anybody in favor of some ODC? Maybe a twofer? Here you go. Wade_

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet stamped her foot in frustration, a habit she thought she had outgrown some time ago. Between herself and the man she now called a friend, and perhaps more, they had made make great strides since the time they met in Charlestown, with her tearing her fists to shreds against a tree. Well, come to think of it, she looked down at her battered hands and had to admit that just about anything was an improvement over that moment.

They had tracked Jane long enough that while she did not _know_ that Jane was all right, at least she knew she had been a month ago. Jane seemed to be on the way to somewhere safe, and seemed quite clever enough to get there. In fact, Lizzy reflected that she may not in the end be the cleverest of the Bennet sisters, but she did not repent loss of the title.

Now she even knew exactly where Mary was, and it would be easy to reunite with her in Kent. At least, it would be easy to physically come together. Mary might hold some lingering resentments toward her, but she was her sister and Elizabeth thought all could be made right between them. She certainly had not a single thing to censure Mary for. She only felt sad that she had failed her sister when she was needed.

Now Elizabeth and William had decided to make best speed to London, and then Hertfordshire, then as quickly as possible back to Kympton. Jane appeared to be well on her way, and there seemed no further purpose in delay – if there ever even had been. Now, she found herself stuck on the side of a country road, about five miles from the town with the stage stop they sought, and wanted to just scream, or beat her fists against the dogcart… well, probably not that one.

She asked, "How bad is it, William?"

Darcy had been futzing around with the horse's hoof for a good ten minutes, and finally sighed in exasperation and said, "The shoe is damaged, and there is a nail crosswise in the hoof. I cannot remove it with my bare hands, and cannot let the horse continue on without further damaging it."

Elizabeth said, "You know as well as I do, neither of us would allow that."

Darcy was glad to see the care she was willing to expend on the animal that she was unlikely to ever see again. He always thought that the way people treated their animals said something about their character, and this just made him even more impressed with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth stamped her foot again. To be stuck five miles from the stage stop on a Saturday afternoon might driver her mad. Paradoxically, being ten or fifteen miles away would not have been nearly as frustrating. They had learned that this stage stop had a rather unusual night coach on Saturday night that could have put them one day closer to Jane, but now they would be stuck here, possibly sleeping in the open for the night. They could not even just set the horse loose without danger to its hoof, so they had very few good options.

Darcy watched her stamp her foot, and tried his best to hide his amusement; which he assumed would not improve his case very much. He was in fact anxious to get to Jane Bennet and ease both of their worries, but that event would also remove his time of guaranteed company with Elizabeth. That was something he was not looking forward to. He had no doubt she would be friendly to him, even more than friendly. He felt that they had established some kind of bond beyond mere friendship. He could even imagine that she might well allow him to court her properly. However, they would be back in society, back living by its rules and strictures, back to worrying about propriety, and gossip, and any effect on the remaining sisters (his and hers) reputations. In short, their short respite was nearly over, and while the morrow may bring him the best of all possible outcomes, it was still by no means guaranteed. He could see that Elizabeth had warmed to him considerably, but would it be enough?

They were both so deep in thought that they did not notice an approaching farm wagon until it was nearly upon them. They looked curiously as it came to a stop, and both were taken aback to see the happiest man either had ever seen in their lives.

The man jumped down from the cart, and introduced himself, "Good day, good day! Oh my, I see not such a good day. Let's have a look shall we. What's the horse's name? Got a thrown shoe do we? Right nice dogcart there, my good man! Not sure about this harness though. Oh my, did not introduce myself properly. James Moffat at your service! Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. Let's have another look at that shoe. I can see why you did not carry on, sir! Cannot let the animal out of his traces like that. Tear the hoof to pieces. No, this will not do. This will not do at all."

William and Lizzy realized they had only managed to hear about half his words, and the man was off to the back of his wagon before they could even respond, or introduce themselves.

The man was a big, round ball of sunshine of middle years. His head sported wispy gray hair, his movements and expressions were all big and bold; and he just seemed _so happy_. Standing next to him, Mr. Bingley would look as peevish as the old Darcy, and the old serene Jane Bennet would look like a petulant child.

In no time at all, Mr. Moffat pulled a pair of blacksmith's tongs out of the back of the wagon, and in another minute or less, the offending shoe was off the horse, the bent nails were removed, and he started releasing it from the harness, which had Darcy snapping to assist.

"No more pulling for this one for the night. You cannot make it to your next town before dark, and you know as well as I do, this one will not be ready for much pulling for a day or two. I am afraid it's to the farmstead for the lot of you. Come along! Let's get this cart off the road young man. Just let the horse into that pasture, and we can come back for him in the morning."

Thus it was, that without a dozen words spoken on their side of the bargain, or even proper introductions, the pair were whisked into the farm wagon, and twenty minutes later without any slackening of words from Mr. Moffat, they arrived at a neat and tidy farmhouse, to be greeted with a matronly goodwife and a bunch of boisterous children.

Mrs. Moffat turned out to be just as voluble as her husband and both fussed and bothered about the pair like a pair of mother hens; and talked over each other as often as not, but with no offense taken, or even any notice given.

Again, without even a proper introduction, Lizzy found herself setting the table with twelve year old Anne, and seemingly the very next moment, she was sitting at the table with two year old Emma on her lap, feeding her peas and carrots from her plate… and surprisingly, not at all worried about the unusual situation. Neither she nor Fitzwilliam had managed to squeeze an introduction in, but neither of the Moffats seemed unduly concerned.

Dinner was mutton, potatoes and peas, and Mrs. Moffat even had a pie for dessert. After dinner, Elizabeth and William entertained the children by reading from a book he had picked up in a bookstore on one of their stops, and Elizabeth for just a moment saw what a life with Fitzwilliam Darcy might be like, and it was not such a terrible thing.

Sometime later, the children were all abed, except for little Emma who had fallen asleep on Elizabeth's lap, and she was not quite ready to give her up yet.

Mr. and Mrs. Moffat sat down with them, and said the very last thing they expected.

Mrs. Moffat said, "I expect you'll want to know about Miss Jane! I assume you are Miss Elizabeth."

Both gasped in surprise, and Elizabeth startled enough to wake poor little Emma, but the child went right back to sleep. She saw Mr. Moffat grinning at her and thought she really should be a bit peevish about such a joke, but found she just could not maintain any type of anger against the pair. She doubted anyone in England could really manage it.

Mr. Moffat continued feeding tobacco into his pipe and tamping it down as he continued the tale, "You must be Miss Elizabeth. We are pleased to meet you, I'm sure. Yes, your Jane was here, along with Miss Lucy and the three little ones. Spent three days with us. We tried to get her to just stay and write to her family to fetch her, but she's a stubborn one, she is."

Elizabeth said, "I understand that to be true, but it's a new development. She was not so formidable when we left home."

Mrs. Moffat said, "We all were a bit different in the schoolroom, weren't we dear."

Elizabeth agreed that it was so, and looked over to Fitzwilliam.

Darcy took it all in and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Moffat, I believe we are in your debt."

Mrs. Moffat actually snorted, and reached into the pocket of her apron. She said, "Absolutely not, and I will trouble you to take these shillings back to Miss Jane. Little rapscallion left them hidden on the mantle."

Darcy had to laugh at the couple, and thought he might as well introduce himself. "Mr. and Mrs. Moffat, I am afraid we have not introduced ourselves properly. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service."

Elizabeth had to laugh at the man, he managed to nod his head quite formally, while sitting on a chair, with his trousers barely clean from his turn with little Emma, which had not gone as smoothly as he might have hoped. He certainly did not seem to mind overly much though. He was not the fastidious man he had appeared to be in Hertfordshire. Was this the actual real Fitzwilliam Darcy?

Both pairs spend a good hour or two talking about Jane's visit, and learning about her new charges. Elizabeth could not wait to meet them.

Finally, it came time for sleep. Elizabeth and William had been running day and night for so long they were thoroughly worn out. The Moffats offered them the choice of the floor by the banked hearth, or the hayloft. Neither had slept in a hayloft since they were children, and thought it might just be a fitting end to this mad adventure. Another twenty minutes found them both in comfortable beds of straw; a half-dozen paces apart in the surprisingly comfortable hay loft, and sound asleep.


	53. An Itch in Time – June 28 1812

Elizabeth Bennet half-awoke with an itch in her nose that was driving her mad. Maybe sleeping on straw was not in fact the best idea ever. She was trying to either sneeze or not sneeze as the case may be, but found herself caught in that place in the middle that was neither one nor the other. Perhaps, she thought, this sneeze was the perfect metaphor for her life. She thought about Mary, and how she would have called that a £10 word in their youth when Lizzy wanted everyone to have such delightful and intelligent conversations she drove all of her sisters mad with her attempts at teaching them vocabulary. She really missed Mary, and had not realized just how much.

Thinking of Mary finally settled her sneezing fit down enough for her to pay a little more attention to her surroundings, and she found that something was _not quite right_. It was not the sneezing fit… not her nostalgia for Mary… not the discomfort of the straw… it was.

With a start, she realized what the issue was. Her head was _not_ on the pillow Mrs. Moffat so graciously loaned her, nor on the bare straw. Her head, she found, was lying squarely in the middle of the chest of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. When the realization finally hit her sleep-addled mind, she started to jump up… but something stopped her. She knew she should be comfortably back on her side of the loft, maintaining her dignity and whatever shreds of propriety they had left, but she could _not_ make herself move. A quick peek out of half-closed eyes showed what she suspected. She had joined him, not the other way round. Now, here she was with her head on his chest, and his arm around her shoulder and she felt… _comfortable_. That was not the £10 word she would have thought to dream up in this situation. In fact, it was a most ordinary word, an everyday word, nothing in the least remarkable at all; but it was _the right word_. She was amazed to think, that she was comfortable in the arms of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Who would have thought? What did it mean?

She heard her big lumpy pillow softly snoring, so unless he was more subtle than expected in his pursuit… and she had to laugh at that. Darcy was many things, but of all the things she knew about him, of all the adjectives she could think of to describe him; _subtle_ would _not_ be on the list. He was as subtle as a sledge-hammer on an anvil, so she could assume he was in fact asleep.

This gave her a few minutes to _really_ stop and think about what she thought and felt about this man. Of several things she was certain. _She liked him. She liked him a lot_. They complimented each other. Each could shore up defects in deportment or understanding or knowledge of the other. He was an honorable man, who had gone to extraordinary lengths to right what he perceived as a wrong. The fact that at least part of it was out of love for her did not negate it in the least. He could have pursued her affections in any number of ways that were easier and more likely to succeed than his blunt declaration of love back in the inn, so many months ago… wait, that was not months ago, it was 9 days. It was a lifetime. So what did she _really_ think about this man?

She thought furiously for a few minutes, wanting to take this time of closeness to… to what? She really should have moved back to her side of the loft some time ago, but she had not.

While she was thinking about her history with this man, all that had happened between them, she felt the slightest brush on her hair… on the very top of her head. It was the lightest touch you could imagine… the touch you might put on the top of a newborn babe's head… Just exactly like… a kiss.

Elizabeth noticed that her big lumpy pillow was in fact _not_ snoring any more, and there could only be one explanation. The man just could not help himself. He had kissed her. Elizabeth pondered it for a moment more, and decided that she needed to address this immediately.

With just a little struggle, she pushed herself up so she could lay beside him propped up on her elbow and looked the man directly in the eyes. This forced his hand off of her shoulder, but he just let it slide down to her waist, and kept it there, clearly _not_ relinquishing the contact without a fight, and he just looked at her intently, waiting to see what she had to say.

She began, "Fitzwilliam…"

She paused for a moment, as he just continued looking at her, waiting for her to decide what she had to say. Clearly, he felt it was a time to listen, not talk.

Elizabeth searched her mind for what she had been prepared to say, and then she decided perhaps she was looking in the wrong place. She looked inside her heart, for the first time in some time, and the answer was staring her in the face. It was all so obvious, once you looked properly.

With a shy smile, she took a deep breath and said, "Fitzwilliam Darcy! Yes, I will marry you."

She did not think that was all she had to say, but the feeling of finally coming to terms with her own heart nearly overwhelmed her. She realized that it was the kiss that he placed on her head that was the turning point, or perhaps just the last of many turning points that had been spinning her in circles seemingly forever. That was the point in which she realized that _it was not enough_ _. It was not even close to enough. She would_ _ **not**_ _settle for a little kiss on the top of her head – not from_ _this_ _man. Not from_ _her_ _man. She wanted it all._ This did not mean she wanted to anticipate her vows… that would come in good time; but she _wanted_ everything from him, heart and mind and body and soul. Truly, if the kiss he bestowed on her was _not_ enough… well, maybe she would just find out what _was enough_.

With that, no more words were needed for the moment, as she proceeded directly to show _her Fitzwilliam_ what kind of kiss she needed… _in exacting detail_. Perhaps should anyone else know what transpired here she might be called a fallen woman, or of lose morals, or wanton; but she knew the truth. In this kiss, they were sealing their bargain. They were sealing their fate. They were sealing their life together, and while words need not be said, the bargain _must_ be made. The hearts _must_ be joined. Their souls must be one. It was not inevitable, not by any stretch. In fact, it was extremely unlikely given their history, but they had through the grace of good fortune found each other, right here, right now, right in this hayloft; and this chance, this opportunity was not to be wasted. Once she had finally come to understand her own heart, and her own soul's yearning for this honorable man that was holding her still across the back of the waist, still as gently as a newborn babe, she would brook no obstacle. _He was hers, and she was his!_

Finally, after an eternity, she lay back down on the straw, and put her head back on his chest where it started out the morning, and felt a sense of peace that she could not possibly describe. She felt.. she felt… _She felt_ _home_ _. Right here, or really, just about anywhere with this man._ _She was finally home_ _._

She felt that she had however not given this man who was now everything to her a fair bargain. He had laid his heart bare, and she had only given him the barest of answers. His heart had received all the answer it needed, but she needed to answer his mind.

"William, I believe I owe you more explanation than that."

He just chuckled, and said, "You said the only word I need to hear Elizabeth, and you showed me the only heart I need to feel. I need nothing more, but I will gladly listen. What question is so burning in your heart that you feel it must be answered."

Elizabeth just whispered, "Why"

William was sure there was something she had to say… had to get out of her mind to complete their binding, and for his part, he was content to listen to anything.

"All right Elizabeth, Why?"

She said, "I now know I love you with all my heart. I am certain of it, but the reasons… Really, it is so many things. The fact that you love me so fiercely is very powerful, and it was the first thing that started pounding away at my wall of reserve and prejudice. How can one stand against such a pure declaration of heartfelt love? Perhaps someone without a heart could, but I cannot. After that, it was your kindness, the way you treated me and everyone around you. The respect you show to everyone from a hostler to Mr. Moffat… and to me. You are truly a changed man from what I thought I knew in Hertfordshire. If you did all that for _me_ I would accept it, but I do not believe that to be the case. I believe you did it for yourself as much as for me, and for that I adore you. I could never countenance a man who had not enough respect for his own soul to choose affection at the expense of respect. That would not be love."

She paused to take a breath, and he, acting on some instinct, said nothing. He just bent his head down and kissed her on the top of the head again, in just the same spot as before. He suspected he might be doing that for quite some time, and he certainly would not be one to complain about it.

Elizabeth continued, "In the end, when I looked in both my heart and my head, I found there is nothing there but you. I cannot picture a life that does not have you in it. It is as simple as that. You are the love of my life, my missing piece."

He said, "I have another confession, Elizabeth."

"Proceed"

He said, "For some time now…"

He paused to gather his thoughts, and said, "When I first realized I loved you, I imagined I would spend a life of torment, imagining a life without you and it would drive me mad. But that's not what happened. Well, it did actually drive me nearly mad in the end, but it was _not_ imagining my life without you."

She crawled back up on her elbow and looked at him again, and since he seemed to be stuck for words, she thought perhaps to loosen up his tongue with a kiss, or perhaps two would suffice.

When she was finally back with her head on his chest, which seemed to be a prerequisite for either of them being able to form a sentence with more than two words, he started talking.

"As it turned out, I did not torture myself with images of a life without you, because I _could not picture_ such a thing. I could not picture a child of mine that was not clinging to your skirt, or sitting on your lap for a story. I could not picture Pemberley without you there. I cannot imagine a conversation with my housekeeper without your council. I could not imagine teaching a child to ride a horse without you standing on the porch looking worried. I cannot imagine Pemberley after I am gone in anyone's hands but your son. It is not that I thought Pemberley would be a forlorn and empty house without you… _I could not picture it at all_. It became impossible to envision anything at all without you sneaking into the picture."

Elizabeth sighed, and said, "I must confess William, last night with little Emma on my lap, I tried to wonder if it would be my own children there one day, and I… I… I could not picture it without you standing there looking over at us."

She giggled, wanting to stop these thoughts before they became too maudlin, a trait she now knew they both shared, and said, "Perhaps, we just lack imagination William!"

He started giggling like a schoolgirl, and Lizzy joined him. He said, "Yes, we are the two dullest people in England!"

At that, they laughed some more, then kissed some more, then laughed some more, and kissed some more, and found themselves deeply in discussion about their future life, and in particular their next se'nnight, and where they would be married, and when they could have the banns read, and how they would help the others they loved; when one of the boys called them into breakfast. They did not want to attract undue attention so they did not attend church with the Moffats, but the Sunday's respite from travel gave them a day to just be together. To drink in their own comfort. To allow their souls to heal. To become a loving couple. To prepare to face life's challenges. _To become one_.

Neither of them were naïve. They both knew they had difficulties aplenty in the days and years to come. They were both still just as stubborn and willful as they had been that morning, and would probably still be tomorrow. However, they were _decided_. They were now _we_ , and would be such until their dying breath.

As all days must, Sunday came to an end, with them not even pretending to separate themselves in the loft. There would be time for propriety soon enough, but for the moment, they looked down at the cows and goats, and decided they looked trustworthy enough to keep their own council.

Monday morning, found them in discussion with Mr. Moffatt.

Darcy said, "Mr. Moffat, I deeply appreciate your hospitality, but I am afraid I must beg one more indulgence."

Mr. Moffat looked carefully at the man. The man who came in Saturday afternoon had almost the look of a nervous but determined schoolboy. This man had the look of a man who had made his place in the world. Of course, one look at Miss Elizabeth yesterday afternoon had told the whole story front to back, top to bottom and he was certain all would be well. Mr. Moffatt just grinned from ear to ear, which was nearly indistinguishable from his normal countenance, and nodded for Darcy to continue.

Mr. Moffat, I would like to continue muddying Miss Jane's trail for a bit, but I am afraid that dogcart and horse may have been seen a few times too often. Would you mind hiding the cart and horse for a month, and then either sell them or keep them. I would consider it a great service."

Mr. Moffatt howled like a monkey, not fooled for a moment, but respectful of the young rapscallion who had somehow turned his politeness on its head and forced him to take payment for both sets of visitors; even though he thought their company to be payment in full a hundred times over.

He simply said, "I will see to it, Mr. Darcy, with a wink showing he was not fooled at all… just in case Darcy missed the previous howling."

* * *

Three days of hard travel saw Elizabeth sitting in a bath in Darcy house, her first bath in what seemed like months. They had arrived at Darcy house to find an enormous stack of letters from Georgiana telling them all the particulars of what had occurred in Longbourn in the last fortnight and Elizabeth gasped in consternation; but finally decided she did in fact have a formidable sister. In the end, they only missed her by ten days, and while Elizabeth would have liked to have been there to support her, it was clear Jane had made her place, and Elizabeth would not have given up the last fortnight for anything in the world.

She came out ready to collapse on the ever-so-soft bed of the mistress's suite, which would be hers in a month after the banns had been read… unless of course her betrothed got antsy and went to the archbishop for a special license. Lizzy gave about a fifty‑fifty chance of that outcome, knowing both of their impatience.

The housekeeper brought in two modistes, and they found they could make Miss Darcy's dresses work for her in almost no time, if they cut a few inches off the bottom. Georgiana would consider them hand-me-downs practically ready for the rag bin, but they were the finest clothes Lizzy had ever worn.

Finally, the day was over, and they headed for their respective beds. They both thought about repeating their hay loft experience, but had absolutely no faith whatsoever in avoiding anticipating their vows under that provocation, so they wisely desisted separated for the night.

The next day was Friday the 3rd of July, and they would leave at first light for Longbourn to finally, once and for all, reunite with _their eldest sister_ , and soon with _their other sisters._


	54. Legal Redress – July 3 1812

Jane Bennet was well and truly worried. She was just to the point where she believed she could, with the help of some of her new friends at Netherfield, bring her father's estate back from the brink of ruin. Now, however she was faced with a problem she was completely unable to deal with. Jane was clever enough to know that she did not know what she did not know. Among the things she knew absolutely nothing about were legal matters.

There, standing in her parlor were four people arrayed against her, and she was momentarily paralyzed with inaction.

Her cousin Collins had been droning on for some time.

"My dear cousin, I can see that this estate which is my birthright, and of which I am the natural hear, as ordained by god, after being confirmed through the magnificent beneficence of my illustrious patroness, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who has advised me to engage these learned solicitors from the illustrious firm of Gray, Gray, Gray and Gray of London; who will represent me in this legal action to reclaim the estate from the gross mismanagement of those of the female persuasion, who can obviously not be entrusted with such weighty matters, and as my illustrious patroness so clearly indicates, it is well within my rights to see that the estate that I shall inherit is seen to in the proper manner so as to deliver it to…."

While he was droning on, one of the very significant men, apparently one of the Grays, said, "As you can see Miss Bennet, we represent Mr. Collins in his entirely justified legal action to prevent the rack and ruin of his entailed estate. We are prepared, under the direction and guidance of Lady Catherine de Bourgh to enter a suit on behalf of Mr. Collins, which will be filed both here in Hertfordshire and in London, to insure…."

As he continued droning on, Jane had to shift her attention to the other occupant of her parlor, who was apparently Lady Catherine de Bourgh, an unpleasant woman if she had ever seen one. Lady Catherine, if that was not overly abusing the term _lady,_ was similarly carrying on without letup, "You unmannered guttersnipe. You are all ruined. Your whole family is without any redemption whatsoever. No connections. No dowries. Do you believe I would ever allow one of you to marry into my illustrious family that goes back to William the Conqueror? I will not allow the august lineage of my illustrious family to be polluted by such as the likes of you…"

Jane could not keep up with the pack of rabble, and she didn't even have Norman Stewart with her to tone them down, as he had gone to Netherfield to bring over her Miss Darcy and Kitty for afternoon tea. He would not be back for at least a half-hour.

Jane was not prepared for being accosted by four very loud people, one of them very rich, and apparently willing to throw as much money and as many solicitors at her as necessary to take by force what she had not earned, and Jane just did not know what to do. She suspected asking Mr. Stewart to bring her father's pistol back from Netherfield would be inappropriate, but the temptation was nearly overwhelming. Could these solicitors actually damage her? She barely had two farthings to rub together after her father's mismanagement of the estate, and she could _certainly_ not afford even one solicitor to argue on her behalf, unless she could get her Uncle Philips to perform the task. Could she count on Mr. and Miss Darcy to support her against their aunt? Perhaps; but it did not seem like the kind of thing she wanted to depend upon. He was clearly a good man, but he _must_ have his limits, and had two estates to care for now.

Jane was standing in stunned disbelief and confusion. To have come so far, with so much going against her, to be stymied at this late date was completely unsupportable; but she just did not know what to do. Not knowing where to look, or what to say, or even if talking to these kind of people would do her good or harm; she was caught completely by surprise when she saw _the most shocking thing_ out of the corner of her eye.

She heard the door open, and just turned her head in time to see Miss Georgiana Darcy practically running across the parlor, directly towards Mr. Collins. Not only was she moving extraordinarily fast, but she seemed to be several inches shorter than she had been previously, _and she was obviously hopping spitting mad._ She was practically calling thunder and lightning from the sky, and looked like some kind of hellcat, sent into the room to rip and rend, with waves of anger poring off of her. Jane thought that she would  not want to be on the end of whoever had earned her displeasure.

The angry woman stalked right up to Mr. Collins, and to Jane's astonishment she hit the parson directly in the chest with the palm of her hand… hard. Her oily little cousin let out a loud cry of pain, and stepped back a step, and the angry she-cat just followed him and hit him again. What in the world had gotten into Miss Darcy?

Such was Jane's confusion that she did not quite recognize the angry woman whom she had only seen from the back so far, until she had shoved the parson all the way back against the wall, and she started shouting.

 **"Mr. Collins!"**

Jane squealed, "Lizzy!", and was just about to run to her sister, but decided to perhaps just wait a moment, because Lizzy was still talking, and apparently _not_ very happy.

"Mr. Collins! Would you answer an important question for me? I have been pondering it for some time, and it has me burning with curiosity. Are you the stupidest man in England, or is it possible there is some lowly little rat somewhere on this island even more senseless. If there is, I would like to see this exemplar, as I cannot believe it to be possible. Is _every_ movement and every word laced with such bad judgment, or did you accidentally say something wise once by mistake? I really am dying to know!"

Such was the force of her words, both of the attorneys stopped talking. The aging dowager in the hideous dress that she assumed was Lady Catherine de Bourgh also stopped talking, and her cousin was even momentarily stunned into silence, something that had not happened in all the time Jane had known him.

Mr. Collins recovered first, and apparently having more volubility than sense said, "I am the heir to this estate, and I will assert my rights."

Perhaps his statement might have had more effect if he weren't sweating profusely, and mopping his brow with his handkerchief, or if he didn't flinch when Elizabeth raised her hand as if to hit him again.

Jane watched Elizabeth, and decided that she would just enjoy the show. Only one thought kept going through her mind, over and over. _'Lizzy is here. Lizzy is here. I do not have to face this alone.'_

She was amused when Lizzy turned and looked at her, and gave her a wink, exactly like she had done when they were girls… just before pushing John Lucas into the mill pond in retribution for some forgotten prank involving frogs or snakes.

Lizzy looked at her cousin Collins, and said, "How dare you accost me in my own home?"

Collins, still lacking any semblance of sense, but showing more fortitude than Elizabeth had expected said, "I am the heir!"

Elizabeth shouted at him as if her were sitting at Netherfield… and hard of hearing. The sound actually scared Jane half out of her wits.

" _You idiot_ _!_ You are the _heir presumptive._ Do you know what that means? It means that you will be the heir  when my father dies. I admit he does not look all that lively being asleep in that chair, but I can assure you sir, I saw him move a minute ago, so _he is still alive_."

At this, Collins seemed to finally run out of words and his sweating and hand-wringing was taking on an even more comical appearance than usual; something Jane would have previously sworn to be impossible. She had to hand it to her sister, she could deliver a setdown. Perhaps their parents had not done quite as badly as she thought. At least two of the sisters seemed somewhat formidable, and who knew about Mary.

Lady Catherine took that moment to start reasserting her natural authority over all and sundry, even if she was fifty miles from the nearest person who cared what she thought.

"I am not accustomed to being accosted like this. I shall prevail. Has this family no honor… no honor at all. Have you no decency… no shame. I know it all. I know it all. At least three sisters spreading dishonor and mayhem everywhere you go, and one who has shamelessly entrapped my nephew. What has this world come to that my family is even associated with such filth. I shall not tolerate it. I shall not be impugned upon. I shall not…"

Lady Catherine punctuated every utterance with a pounding of her walking on the stick on the floor, as if each point were to be handed down to the ages with the eclat of a proverb. It was really quite annoying after the first few thumps… at least it appeared to be to Lizzy, because she walked over to the dowager, leaving her cousin anxiously looking at his trousers to see if they were really as stained as he feared they might be.

Lizzy walked right up to the woman and eyed her critically. The dowager seemed convinced everyone would cower at her obvious wealth and importance, but Lizzy was having none of it. Elizabeth, apparently not very enamored with the walking stick, snatched it directly from her hand and simply broke it over the back of a chair she always hated. Much to her delight, the walking stick broke in half. Much to her dismay, the chair was completely undamaged.

She looked around the room, and in an apparent bit of whimsy, noticed the man who had just walked in. She said brightly, "Why, Norman Stewart! How wonderful to see you, but I can see you must be Mr. Stewart now? You're not a boy any more, are you?"

Norman looked around in confusion, but neither Miss Jane nor Miss Elizabeth seemed to be in any particular distress, so he simply said, "Welcome home, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth gave the young man a cheeky grin and, gave Norman a very graceful and elegant curtsey in her new borrowed dress, and said, "Why Mr. Norman Stewart, I thank you for the kind greetings, and I must say, if you would not consider it too impertinent, you do look very handsome. _I am afraid though_ , that you did not address me _quite_ properly, but it is of no matter. I am certain you just do not know of my proper address."

Norman looked her with a perplexed look, bowed slightly, and said, "Please enlighten me, madam!"

Elizabeth, warming up to the task said, "I go by Mrs. Darcy now!"

Elizabeth thought maybe there was an evil streak running through the Bennet sisters as well as the obstinate streak, and the impertinent streak, because she _really_ enjoyed watching Lady Catherine de Bourgh turn white as a sheet, while she heard Jane squeal in surprise and delight.

Elizabeth continued, "I am afraid we did not have leisure to invite you to the wedding Lady Catherine… you see, my husband is an impatient man, and he happened to run into the archbishop early this morning, and you see… well, as I said, we were impatient."

Jane screamed like the little girls they once were, " _Lizzy Darcy!, you naughty girl._ ", and then her face lit up in the biggest grin Elizabeth had seen since leaving the Moffats, as none other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, in the flesh, walked up to her sister Elizabeth, wrapped his arm around her proprietarily, kissed her impertinently but unrepentantly on the top of her head, and said, "Do not blame me, Mrs. Darcy. You were as impatient as I was. Oh, hello, Aunt! What brings you here?"

Elizabeth by now was hardly paying any attention to the attorneys, or Mr. Collins, or just about anyone other than her new husband. He had that effect on her, but she thought she should just get the riffraff culled from the room, so she turned back to Norman… Mr. Stewart now, and said, "Mr. Stewart, do you think you might perform a small service for me?"

Norman, bowed slightly with a twinkle in his eye and said, "I am at your disposal, Mrs. Darcy, since I believe I may be in your employ now; although I mostly answer to Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth said, "Why thank you, Mr. Stewart. I believe I will take my recalcitrant cousin, he's the stupid parson you see cowering in the corner out by his ear; and I was wondering if you might carry one of these attorneys out over your shoulder. I believe my husband could handle the other."

She was startled to hear a voice from the door saying in no uncertain terms, "That will not be necessary, Mrs. Darcy. I will deal with _this one_."

Elizabeth was quite taken aback, and just barely had time to say, "Charlotte", before her oldest and best friend marched over to her cowering husband and quite literally grabbed him by the ear like a misbehaving boy, and bodily drug him from the room."

Elizabeth only heard a bit of the conversation… well, conversation was probably the wrong word since it was entirely one sided as Charlotte berated her husband, "You stupid man. You will get in the carriage, and you will stay there, and I will hear silence from you until I give you leave to speak. That may be in a se'nnight, or a fortnight or a month, but you will be silent, and it will be some time before you even so much as share a dinner table with me, let alone a…"

Elizabeth couldn't hear the rest of it, but she really hoped Charlotte would come back in to visit, but it was not critical since she would be in Kent in a few days anyway.

She heard her husband picking up the previous thread, when he said, "Shall we get to it, Mr. Stewart?"

She was just admiring her husband, and hoping she might actually get to see him carry one of the now cowering solicitors out bodily, when she was again startled when she heard an unknown voice from over by the parlor door, "I say, will you be needing my sword, Darcy?"

She looked over at the door to see a handsome colonel walking into their parlor. Well, you did not see that every day in Longbourn! He was not as handsome as her husband, but she probably should admit to some bias in his favor. Apparently, he knew Fitzwilliam, so she would meet him properly once the room was cleared of vermin.

Right behind the colonel, she saw another woman entering the room in a very becoming and obviously new dress, and it was only a second or two later, when both gentlemen felt that they might need to cover their ears, because they heard the simultaneous full-volume shouts of delight from two voices, " **MARY** **!** "

With that, Elizabeth and Jane were across the room like a shot, to run headlong into their sister. Elizabeth at the last moment feared they might bowl poor little Mary over in their enthusiasm, but was surprised to find Mary took their onslaught with no more effort than an oak tree. She was crying and hugging them back as all three women expressed their delight… although both Jane and Elizabeth had to ask Mary to perhaps try to _not_ break any parts of their person… how had little Mary become so strong?

All the others in the room were entirely forgotten in the press of the reunion. A glance by Mr. Darcy was enough to send the solicitors scurrying from the room in fear. They at least knew when to admit defeat.

Darcy walked over to Lady Catherine and said, "Aunt, I suggest you go to Netherfield, and I will see you in a few hours. Or go home if you like, but I strongly suggest you not try my wife's patience again… or her sister."

Lady Catherine, perhaps for the first time in forty years was at a complete loss for words. She finally asked the first thing that popped into her mind, "Which sister am I expected to fear, Nephew?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked over at the three women exchanging hugs, and smiles and tears and talking over each over so fast he couldn't understand one word in ten. One glance at his cousin told him that his instinct about the colonel and Miss Mary had been right… he was just too late to the party, but he would not repent the loss of the task. All was as it should be.

With a contented smile, Fitzwilliam Darcy looked his aunt directly in the eye, and said, "All of them. I believe they are the three most formidable women in England."


	55. Shameless Boasting – July 3 1812

A half hour later, with both gentlemen having long given up any attempt to slide a word in edgewise in the sisters' reunion, both were delighted to see Mr. Stewart usher in Georgiana and Anne, along with a newly quiet and demure Kitty Bennet.

Anne, with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eye said sternly, "Fitzwilliam, I traveled fifty miles to escape my mother, and you promptly sent her to the house I am currently occupying. How could you?"

Darcy laughed, and said, "It was either you or my wife, and I'm afraid you will always come out on the short end of that bargain."

Anne just laughed, but she didn't have the shocked look he was hoping for. He said, "I assume Mr. Stewart told you about my marriage?"

Anne just laughed and said softly, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are perhaps the smartest man I know, so I would be most surprised should you have allowd your Bennet sister out of your sight once you found her."

Darcy had to laugh, and said, "Anne, you are becoming most impertinent. I believe you might be spending too much time with the Benet sisters!"

Anne affected a pout, and said, "I have the two most horrid cousins. One is taking my friend Mary to the Canadas, and other is taking her sister to Pemberley."

Fitzwilliam grew a little bit more serious, and said, "Anne, I have a plan I would like to discuss with you. And of course, you know you are always welcome at Pemberley."

Georgiana joined in the conversation, and asked, "Fitzwilliam, did you _really_ drag the archbishop from his bed at dawn for a special license."

Fitzwilliam laughed and said, "I _did not_. I cannot believe you would believe I would do such a thing. It was _at least seven o'clock_."

Georgiana looked critically and said, "At least, brother?"

Darcy said, "Yes, at least. It was practically time for luncheon!"

Not to be deterred, Georgiana asked, "So you _did_ drag him from his bed?"

He just nodded and said, "Well yes, but he owed me a favor. He signed the special license and performed the ceremony all in ten minutes, just so he could get back to bed."

They all shared a bit of a laugh at that, and Anne asked, "What have you and Richard been doing while the sisters reunited this last half-hour. You are obviously superfluous in that discussion."

She was surprised when her brother actually reached up and ruffled her hair like when she was a child. What had Miss Elizabeth… No, her sister Elizabeth… done to her brother. Whatever it was, she wanted her to do more of it.

The colonel had just joined them and replied for Darcy, "You know Miss Jane took every drop of liquor and every cigar out of this house. We could not drink or smoke, and there aren't even any firearms either so we could not even go shooting. Swordplay was out, since we only have one between us. Darcy and I were quite desperate. We had to make do with the other manly pursuits."

Anne took the bait and asked, "Which are?"

Darcy laughed and said, "Why wagering and shameless bragging, of course!"

Georgiana looked over at the still quite voluble Bennet sisters and said, "The topic for shameless bragging seems obvious, but what did you find to wager on? What was the outcome?"

Richard said, "About even. I believe I'm up by two shillings. I got the first proposal to a Bennet sister… beat Darcy out by six hours. I had an answer in ten minutes and he took ten days. He did however manage to get the first wedding, beating me out by a full week. Oh, and I figured out who the Little Lion actually was more than a week before he did. All in all, about even I would say."

The group laughed, and chatted for another half-hour, before the men thought they had gone quite long enough without the attentions of their respective Bennet sisters and went to join the fray, bringing the other three with them. Jane was surprised to see Kitty in a much better mood than she expected, so her Amelia and Georgiana plan seemed to have been a success. Perhaps, one day she would relent and accept the wayward sister back into her heart, but not today.

Darcy had carried all the Bennet sisters fully in his heart and his mind for so long, he was a bit surprised that he had to introduce the colonel, Anne and Georgiana to his new sister Jane and to his wife. Once all the ladies were introduced he was quite happy to let them become acquainted with each other while he just sat back with his cousin and watched their respective ladies enjoy themselves, both men looking surprisingly like the cats that ate the canaries.

It was not long before Anne excused herself to go back to Netherfield and deal with her mother, and protect Jane's children from said matron, or considering one of them was Miss Amelia, perhaps the reverse.

* * *

After an unusually boisterous dinner, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam asked all of the sisters present to sit with them for a bit, with Richard and Georgiana joining as well. He had asked Elizabeth previously to start the discussion, so she asked, "Jane, how do you find Netherfield?"

Jane said, "Oh, I quite like it now that it has been cleared of Bingleys. I find the present company delightful."

Elizabeth said, "How about Netherfield itself?"

Jane looked at her in perplexity and asked, "I quite like it, but why do you ask?"

Elizabeth couldn't really hold her tongue anymore, so she said, "Welllll… Because you are now its mistress. Fitzwilliam bought it several months ago, and entailed it on the Bennet female line. You are eldest, so you are to be mistress unless you wish to hand the responsibility to another. All that is required is you commit to caring for our mother and any unmarried sisters."

Jane looked at her, and started laughing, saying, "Lizzy, this new husband of yours has really changed your sense of humor!"

Elizabeth had to stop her, and said, "He is quite serious. The deed is done, Jane."

Jane stopped laughing abruptly, and at length said, "You are serious?"

Darcy stepped in, and said, "Quite serious, Miss Bennet. I felt I owed a debt to your family, and took the liberty. I realize I had no leave to do so, but it is done now and it is done for the best, I believe."

Jane looked from Elizabeth to her husband, and said, "Did you do this before or after you talked to Lizzy?"

Darcy looked a bit abashed, and said, "I did it before I found any of you. Actually, in the end, I never did manage to locate any of you. You all found me."

With that, he looked again at his new wife, who really made it harder to keep his mind on the conversation, but he did manage to pull his attention back to the eldest and said, "I would do it again today if it were not already done. My wife will sleep easier at night knowing all is well here in Hertfordshire, and I ask nothing more."

Jane really did not know what to say to that, so she just hugged her sister and said nothing.

Mary saw Kitty sitting a bit apart from the others, forlorn and alone. She moved over beside her, and said, "Kitty, Miss Darcy has told me your story, and… and… well…" She sighed, and paused and said, "We all make mistakes Kitty. We all do things we regret or are not proud of… some more than others. Are you planning to let this past year destroy your entire life? Are you planning to become as silly as our mother?"

Kitty just looked at her in silence for a moment, wondering what in the world had happened to the preachy, annoying sister that fled the county a half-year ago. She stared at the beautiful, confident and somehow _solid_ woman in front of her, and thought for the first time, that she really wished to be more like her elder sister. At length, she just nodded, unable to really speak. Mary moved over close to her sister, and just held her in her arms for as long as it would take. She had missed most of the drama at Longbourn, both the good and the bad. She would be off across the ocean in less than a fortnight, but she felt that for the moment, she was right where she needed to be, doing just what she needed to do. Kitty and Lydia could well have destroyed the family, and still might, but they _were_ sisters.

* * *

Fearing a major conflict at Netherfield, Darcy had asked Mr. Stewart to check on his aunt, and he reported that all was well, so he left her to her own devices while he discussed Netherfield with Jane. When everything was settled that needed to be taken care of that night, he looked to the sisters and brought up one last point he wanted to address while Georgiana was present.

Darcy said, "Georgiana, I believe you laid a condition on me for your coming out?"

Georgiana had to laugh and said, "I had no idea you would be so expeditious. Do you realize, that was only two months ago."

Darcy looked over to Elizabeth, then took his sister's hand and said, "At times it has felt like two years, but I do have to thank you Georgiana. Your wise council is what brought me to this point, and I thank you."

Georgiana just blushed and nodded her head, and Darcy turned back to his sister Jane, and said, "Apparently all my sisters are smarter than I am, but let me muddle through this. Jane, I would ask a boon of you. You need not agree, but I am hoping you will not be too averse to the idea."

Jane looked at him cautiously, and he continued, "I did promise Georgiana that my wife would guide her into society, but I find myself disinclined to give my wife up to the task for an entire season. Would you consider it too much of a burden to take up the office while you have a season in town? I would consider it a grate favor, and my Aunt Lady Matlock will I am certain take you under her wing! I suspect Anne might like to join you as well, if that is not too much to ask. Naturally, it will all be at the expense of the Pemberley estate, since you are doing me such a service."

Jane just grinned at the her new brother, and nodded her head. A London season might not be too much of a burden. Perhaps, she _might_ be prevailed upon to take up the yoke.

Lizzy said, "Let us take to our beds. Jane I need to see these children of yours, and if it's not too much trouble, I may wish to have them visit us at Pemberley from time to time.


	56. Strange Pewfellows – July 10 1812

_A/N: As you can see, we're coming pretty close to the end, but the story is not quite done yet._

* * *

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy looked around the chapel, and smiled in complete satisfaction. Everything was exactly as it should be. Everything was in place, the decorations were superb thanks to Miss Anne de Bourg (Apparently, _Cousin Anne_ now), all the right people were in place, and all were exactly as happy as they should be.

Of course, she really had to suppress a giggle at that last thought, which earned her a stern look from her husband… or as stern as he could manage, which all things considered was not all that fierce. The sternness of his countenance was at a bit of a disadvantage since he was suppressing a laugh as well.

For some unaccountable reason, completely unexplainable through science, art, literature or even common sense, his aunt, the right, honorable and gracious Lady Catherine de Bourg had asked _politely_ if she could attend the ceremony, since it was only a few miles from her estate. Asking permission was astounding enough after her reception in Longbourn, but nobody in Kent, or possibly in the entire Western Hemisphere had ever heard of her wanting to attend a ceremony such as this, nor of her asking for anything politely. When the application had been made to Colonel Fitzwilliam, he had shown himself to be a _man of sense and education, who has lived in the world_ , which he demonstrated by looking to his betrothed for permission. Mary was in such a good mood after being rewarded with a fortnight in her sister's company before her trip to the wilds of the Canadas that she had agreed without a second thought. Now was the time to be generous. The colonel seemed like he was torn between his love for her innate generosity and good sense; and his hidden wish to perhaps hide behind her skirts to refuse his aunt permission. In the end though, her request was granted and Mary would not countenance any mistreatment of one of _her_ guests.

Elizabeth was still having trouble suppressing her giggles, and she asked her husband, "Fitzwilliam, have you ever overindulged in brandy or perhaps whiskey… or both for that matter?"

Her husband simply grinned, and directed his eyes to the front where his cousin the colonel was standing looking anxiously at the rear of the church awaiting his bride. That look was enough to answer both the question about over-imbibing, and naturally lay the blame on the person who was obviously responsible for any such lapses in judgment.

Elizabeth said, "In your long nights of drink, or in your wildest imaginings, or even in your worst fever dreams, or maybe after falling from that horse of yours and bashing your head… did you ever imagine, could you ever imagine a sight such as that?"

The sight she was referring to was right across from them. Since they were in Mary's church instead of Mr. Collins', Lady Catherine did not have a family pew. Mary had with extreme generosity, given her a place of singular honor, well beyond anything the dowager actually deserved, right on the same bench as her most honored and trusted guests… the Little Pride. Lady Catherine was not accustomed to sitting with laundresses, but she sat among them as if she were their queen and they her attendants, and they all did their very best not to laugh.

Darcy gave a little chuckle at the jest, and looked to the front. In some ways he was a bit sad that he had not had a proper wedding, standing up and saying his vows in front of everyone he knew… but such reflections really could not stand up to close scrutiny. Any wedding of his would have been more like a circus, and he had neatly avoided it. Then of course, he had secured his bride at the _very first opportunity_ , and only a fool would do otherwise. No, he really wasn't up to any regrets, hard as he might try.

He looked at his cousin, who had surprisingly decided to have his brother, whom he only talked to about every six months stand up with him… well, it was surprising until he saw said brother looking at Jane Bennet. Fitzwilliam was well through with the matchmaking business, even though his foray had been too little too late anyway; but he was _not_ out of the wagering business.

"Elizabeth, would you care to make a wager with your husband?"

She grinned and asked, "What are the stakes, and what is the wager, sir?"

He glanced at the viscount, and at his sister Jane, and mouthed the words, " _Lady Jane"_

Elizabeth looked carefully at both, and said, "I will not take the wager sir, because he looks like a besotted schoolboy… but I can assure you of one thing."

"What is that, my dear?"

Elizabeth said, "His title will do him no good. That man is going to have to show himself worthy, if he wants to court our sister. Her hand is to be _earned_."

Fitzwilliam said, "He will have his work cut out for him when she appears for her season. I believe bears and honey might supply the correct analogy."

Both shared a laugh that was interrupted by the start of the procession from the back. They stood up, and looked to the back of the church to see a sight that had seemed completely beyond either of their ability to imagine at just about any point in the last year.

Mary Bennet was spending her last half-hour as a Bennet in the dress that had earned her so many pins in the legs over her fidgeting, but neither she nor the modiste had anything whatsoever to complain about, because Mary looked magnificent. There as just no other way to say it… She was radiant. She had a look of complete contentment, that of a woman who had made her place in the world and was fully satisfied with it. She was walking down the aisle on her father's arm, and said father had clear eyes and an even, steady step for the first time anyone could remember. Elizabeth thought that just _maybe_ , he could be redeemed. Of course, her lingering resentment made her happy that he would perform this redemption three miles from Jane and four days from Elizabeth. Her mother was standing quietly down the pew from her. Whatever Jane had done to her, and Elizabeth did not really want to dwell on any of the particulars, had done wonders. She was also clear-eyed, and perhaps she might find her own way to happiness.

Elizabeth and her husband heard a sharp intake of breath from the front, and looked up to see the viscount reaching out to support his battle-hardened brother, who from all observations seemed likely to swoon… which might have caused an inconvenient delay.

In the space of a few moments, Mary was beside her intended, standing next to Madeline who also looked like a woman who knew what she was about, and the aging clergyman started with the old, familiar ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer, "Dearly beloved…"

* * *

The married contingent of the Bennet sisters stood next to their husbands, surrounded by the rest of the sisters save one, talking at the wedding breakfast. It seemed that everyone in Hunsford had been invited, and all had such good stories of the _Little Lion_ to share, that Elizabeth and Jane had to continually strive to keep their jaws from hanging open, which would of course have been unladylike. It was one thing to beat her fists against a tree, but quite another thing to stand around in open astonishment at a mere story.

Elizabeth was in some ways regretting the loss of anonymity she shared with her husband in Cornwall. She realized that her present happiness may have been completely impossible without that brief interlude. She really could not see any way he would have been able to batter down her resistance with the puny weapons allowed him by a normal courtship ritual… not that he would have been likely to try anyway. In pensive moments, she wondered if they would have _ever_ managed to come together without Mary's enormous setdown at the Netherfield ball. In her darkest moments she really thought it would have been quite impossible. He had seemed within hours or days of quitting Netherfield even at the start of the ball, and even though she was the only woman in Hertfordshire he asked to dance, she was quite convinced he would have quit the place the next day and she would never have seen him again without Mary's intervention. With a feeling of profound emotion, she hugged her sister and whispered in her ear, "Thank you Mary!"

Mary asked, "Whatever for, Lizzy?"

Lizzy just smiled and said, "For everything! You started everything. You lead us all on this path that has been fraught with difficulties and perils we never imagined, but we have all come out happy. Some say that Fortuna favors the bold. Perhaps that is true and perhaps not, but of one thing I am certain. You were and are **bold** Mary. Perhaps in the end we all were, and perhaps you really did not care for such boldness, but you have earned your good fortune."

Mary really thought Lizzy was just rattling on about nothing, as was her usual custom, but she did have to admit one thing. At least in this case, right here, right now, in this family… fortune had certainly favored the bold.

* * *

"My dear cousins. I must offer my profound apologies, and hope that one day I may earn your forgiveness."

The Bennet sisters looked at their cousin, and just waited for the rest. There must be more, quite a deal more, mustn't there?

Such was their astonishment that none of them thought to answer, since all assumed they would have at least five minutes to come up with something.

Finally, as the eldest, Jane decided to be beneficent, and replied, "Bygones, Mr. Collins."

Her cousin gave the ladies a courtly bow, and walked back to his wife, who had elected not to witness the apology up close.

Elizabeth stood in open mouthed wonder, this time completely unable to suppress her unladylike behavior in the least. Finally, she said, "Nineteen words."

All sighed in wonder. Yes, apparently miracles did happen from time to time.


	57. Reading for Pleasure – July 31 1812

_A/N: In the evolution of this story, this chapter is probably the biggest departure from my original plan, and we had a bit of debate on my forum about my two choices. Now you can see what I finally decided.. See how you like it. We're very near the end, which leaves me both sad and excited. Let me know what you think. Wade_

* * *

Mrs. Darcy took her husband's hand with pleasure as he helped her from the Darcy coach. In this case, he was being more than usually gentlemanly, perhaps because she had been noticeably queasy during the trip. Elizabeth thought it seemed a little paradoxical. She had traveled well over 1,200 miles by coach all over Southern England since leaving Hertfordshire in January, but never felt any difficulties with nausea or queasiness until she was in the best sprung coach in England. Perhaps she should shift back to mail coaches or get the old dogcart back from the Moffats?

Such were her reflections, and her pleasure at standing on solid ground, that she was not at all prepared for the raging storm that nearly bowled her over, with a breathless scream of, "Lizzy!"

Much to her shock, she found herself nearly knocked over, then grabbed and righted, then hugged within an inch of her life by the most exuberant, over-excited sister she had ever seen (and this coming from someone who had been exposed to Georgiana Darcy). When she managed to get herself back under regulation, she saw that she was most unexpectedly being hugged by none other than her sister Lydia, who was surprisingly holding a babe on her shoulder. Elizabeth knew she might have been a bit confused, but there was _no way_ that Lydia could have a babe already, nor that she could be so enthusiastic at her appearance.

She finally cleared the cobwebs from her head to start understanding the torrent of words coming at her from her sister.

"Oh Lizzy, I'm so happy to see you back. Mama Frog said you would be here today, and here you are. We've been most anxiously waiting for you. I can't wait to hear about Mary's wedding. I have so much to tell you. I have so much to show you. Oh there's Papa Frog and Mama Frog. You must come inside this instant…"

Such was Lydia's unexpected enthusiasm for her sister that Elizabeth began to fear for the child's safety, but that worry was unexpectedly alleviated when her husband without a word, swept the babe from her sister's shoulder, complete with the towel he was laying on, and resettled him on his shoulder without missing a beat.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Darcy. I mean… brother? Who would have thought you know about babies?"

Darcy said, "I had a baby sister once you know, Miss Lydia. I have _some_ skills. May I presume I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Samuel?"

Lydia just looked at him, laughed and said, "Yes of course! Please excuse him for not bowing properly. His mother is off visiting a friend for an hour or two."

Then she seemed to calm down a bit, and asked more tentatively, "You do not plan to call me Miss Lydia for the rest of your life I hope?"

Darcy just laughed and said, "Of course not, I beg your pardon Lydia. You are welcome of course to call me Fitzwilliam, or some prefer Darcy."

Lydia smiled, and gave as elegant of a curtsey as she could, which all things considered was not all that refined, but all were satisfied.

Darcy continued, "Please excuse your sister. She has been queasy, and to tell the truth, a little fuzzy this trip. She…

Who knows what he might have said, had he not been interrupted by a scream.

"Lizzy! You did not tell me! Oh, this is so exciting."

Elizabeth just smiled, nodded, and said, "It is too early to be certain, Lydia."

She did not really know if Lydia heard her or was even listening, as Lydia took her arm and pulled her into the shop. Mr. and Mrs. Wolcott had been patiently waiting at the door to greet them, and warm greetings were exchanged all around.

Elizabeth said, "Mr. and Mrs. Wolcott. Lydia, may I present my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Mrs. Wolcott said, "Welcome to hour home, Mr. Darcy. I have heard much about you these past few months, but I must say the story has not remained very… consistent."

Elizabeth blushed and smiled at that, and said, "Yes, that day riding from Kent seems so long ago now… another lifetime."

Mr. Wolcott said, "Well met, Mr. Darcy. I am afraid I may be ahead of your kind introduction Mrs. Darcy. Your husband knows the inside of my shop as well as you do."

Elizabeth looked at her husband suspiciously.

He grinned at her and said, "I told you I know the shop!"

She just laughed, and they went in for midafternoon tea.

* * *

As the group was sitting around the table after tea, Darcy asked his wife, "Dear, do you remember the conversation at Netherfield about the library at Pemberley?"

He was surprised when his wife reached up to pinch the top of her nose, turned said nose up in the air, and said in a near perfectly match in pitch, tone and attitude the voice of Caroline Bingley. _"I am astonished, that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"_

Then Lizzy sat up straight, puffed her chest out like a strutting rooster, and even mimicked said rooster's head bobs for good measure, and said in the deepest of tones.

 _"It ought to be good. It has been the work of many generations."_

Everyone around the table laughed, and he squeezed his wife's hand in approval.

Darcy continued, "What I did _not_ tell Miss Bingley is that the _work of many generations_ is a mess. I do keep buying new books that interest me, but the overall library is… shall we say confused. We have four volume sets that are missing the third volume. Prominently displayed volumes of absolute rubbish, and the finest gems hidden behind other books on the shelves. I have been avoiding straightening the mess out for eight years because it's too big of a job."

He turned to Mr. Wolcott, and said, "I expect to hand a more worthy library over to my children. Would you consider becoming our librarian Mr. Wolcott? It is a big job, but I believe between you, my wife and myself we should be able to sort it out in a dozen years or so."

Mr. Wolcott made a show of preparing his pipe, which Elizabeth remembered was a sign that he was thinking through all the particulars. He finally said, "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Darcy. I am not interested in charity."

Darcy said, "That is fortunate, Mr. Wolcott because I am not offering that. I am offering employment, doing a difficult job that I will entrust to nobody else. Do propose to be responsible for filling Derbyshire with a pack of ignorant schoolboys, unable to distinguish between Cicero and Aristotle?"

With that, everyone around the table burst out laughing, and Mr. Wolcott started the business of really considering the offer. He said at length, "What do you propose for my shop Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy said, "It is your business and not my place to say. I said my library project is large. You will have ample wages to hire an assistant, or take an apprentice, or sell the shop as you choose."

He just noticed Lydia's look of alarm, and Elizabeth jumped in to reassure her that she would always have somewhere to go. She looked mollified for the moment, but Elizabeth knew she would have to talk with her privately… soon.

* * *

Elizabeth and Lydia paradoxically had their private chat in the same workroom at the same table in the same position as their last meeting; which Elizabeth did not recall with fondness. Lizzy was nervous about the location, but Lydia assured her that was the most comfortable chair in the house, so she went along with the scheme.

Lydia started the conversation, "Do I seem changed to you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth laughed a bit and said, "A polite and shy question from my baby sister? I think that answers the question right there, does it not?"

Lydia just smiled quietly, quite another change, and Lizzy wondered just exactly what Mrs. Frog had done in her absence.

However, she was not one to make light of what may have been quite a difficult time for her sister. Whether the girl had been horrid or not; or whether she had nearly brought them to ruin or not; just like Kitty before her, she was her sister and Elizabeth was prepared to see just where this conversation went. She was not naïve enough to just take everything at face value, but she would at least give her sister a chance.

She sat quietly, allowing Lydia the time to gather her thoughts.

Lydia said, "Lizzy, I owe you an apology. I cannot think of how I acted before without abhorrence."

Both the sentiment and the vocabulary seemed to come from someone new and different, so Lizzy said, "It is forgotten Lydia. It has turned out well in the end for all of the sisters except you."

Lydia looked at her and said, "That is where you are wrong Elizabeth. I think… I think…"

She blew out a confused breath, and then reached over to take Elizabeth's hand, and placed it on her belly and said, "Do you feel that, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth's face lit up in wonder, and she was speechless for a few moments.

Lydia continued, "You see Lizzy, it has worked out for me as well. I have quite changed my mind, and I will no longer be depending on you to raise _my_ child."

Elizabeth smiled big enough to be an unofficial Wolcott and, and said, "I hope you _will_ accept a _little_ assistance from me?"

Lydia breathed a sigh of relief, and they sat in contented silence for a bit.

Finally, Lydia took a deep breath and said, "I know I sent my whole family off a cliff Lizzy, and I am sorry."

Lizzy just whispered, "Water under the bridge Lydia. All is well."

Lydia looked at her and said, "Can I show you something, Lizzy?"

"Of course!"

Lydia got up from the table with more grace than Elizabeth would have expected, went over to a shelf and brought back a book, tooled in very fine calfskin leather with quite good construction. Lydia said, "Go ahead, take a good look."

Elizabeth looked at the cover, _Sense and Sensibility by A Lady_ , and then looked at the binding, the quality of the stitching, and the overall quality of the book and pronounced it excellent.

Lydia said, "I made that Lizzy. I did not write the book obviously, but I bound the pages, I bound the cover, and I did the engraving. It's… It's my gift to you."

Elizabeth stared at the book in wonder. She had made surprisingly good progress in the short time she had been in the book business, but was not this good. The book was very find indeed. She nodded and said, "It is beautiful, Lydia. It is better than I can do. You are showing a real talent."

Lydia further astounded her by saying, "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of reading it first."

Lizzy just laughed, at the very idea of Lydia Bennet apologizing for reading a book, and said, "It's quite all right Lydia, that's what books are for…"

She looked carefully at her sister and said, "Have you been reading _other_ books."

One glance told her all she needed to know. They say the acorn does not fall very far from the tree, and perhaps both she and Lydia had fallen closer to their father's tree than anyone expected. That made three of five Bennet sisters that liked books, and perhaps there was hope for Jane and Kitty yet."

Lydia still looked pensive, and just a touch nervous, as she said, "Lizzy, I would like to tell you _how_ I changed."

Lizzy took both of her sister's hands and said, "I would like that very much Liddie."

Lydia said, "Do you remember that day when you tied my mouth with that strip of leather?"

Elizabeth said, "That day will be burned in my memory forever as the most shameful experience of my life Lydia. I remember… and I apologize. That was wrong."

Lydia looked at her with fire in her eyes and said, "Do Not apologize for that day Lizzy. That was the first turning point, and it took a lot of bravery."

Elizabeth said, "Not really Lydia, it just took a lot of anger."

Lydia retorted, "Be that as it may, Lizzy. It was the turning point. It took me some days after you left to understand it. Do you know what turned my thinking around?"

Elizabeth just shook her head, so Lydia continued, "You left to look for Jane the very next day. I was so mad I could not even see straight for days, but I finally happened by the table one day and noticed something. Do you know what it was?"

Lizzy was still in pins and needles, wanting to know where this was going.

Lydia continued, "That knife you were cleaning your fingers with in _such_ a threatening manger, I found it on the table. It turns out it is so dull, I couldn't use it to spread jam on my bread."

Elizabeth laughed at that, and said, "Yes, it isn't even properly a knife. I used it to smooth out wrinkles in leather. I actually was trying to be threatening, but forgot just how dull it was."

Both sisters laughed over that for a few moments, and Lydia continued, "Do you know what happened to the leather strap you tied around my head?"

Elizabeth, not really wishing to discuss that embarrassing incident any further, just shook her head.

Lydia pointed to the copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ on the table in front of her and said, "It's there. That was the second turning point. I figured out that even in your darkest day, even when you were spitting mad and ready to kill someone, even when…"

Lydia at this point just looked embarrassed, but Elizabeth thought she needed to finish if only to take care for her own sanity said, "Go on Lydia. I will not censure you."

Lydia said, "Even when I had been absolutely horrid to everyone around me for half a year, and you were clearly so angry you were ready to start throwing things, you did not damage the leather in the least. You did not tie it tight enough to damage it. You did not put it where it may have brought me harm. You did not tie it too tight. In other words, when I finally understood it with the help of Mrs. Frog, I understood _you_ Lizzy. You did _exactly_ what was necessary to get through to me… no more… no less."

Elizabeth felt that she had been nowhere near that appropriate or correct in her actions on this or nearly any other subject, but if she had given her sister what she needed, she would just accept it and be happy.

She took Lydia's hands again and said, "I do not think I was so very clever Lydia, but if my actions had a good result, even if accidental, I am content."

Lydia looked at her and said, "You may fool yourself, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, but you will not fool me. You saved me that day, and I will not forget it. Someday I will earn your forgiveness, and another day, I hope your respect."

Elizabeth said, "Lydia, this is not a girl's conversation. This is a woman's conversation. Like many such, it is difficult and dangerous, but you have navigated it well. If you need my forgiveness, you have it right here and now. You have my respect as well, although that may also grow over time."

Elizabeth said, "Did you really do this book?"

Lydia just nodded her head, and Lizzy said, "It is better than I could do. I salute you Lydia."

Sensing that her sister was not _quite_ finished, Elizabeth waited patiently.

Finally, Lydia started, "You were right you know Lizzy. Colonel Miller is not coming back."

Elizabeth said, "I'm sorry about what I said about him Lydia, but that is the way such men are."

Lydia looked at her in confusion, and it took her a moment to understand what her sister was saying. She quickly said, "Oh, I know he was a rake Lizzy, but that's not what I meant. What I mean is, _he is not coming back… ever_." She looked a bit wistful and said, "He would not have come back anyway, but he was killed in France, so he really truly is gone forever. When I realized that, it stripped away the very last of my illusions, and let me see just how silly and ignorant I had been. Our father was at least right about that Lizzy, even if he was wrong about nearly everything else in his life."

Elizabeth said, "I'm so sorry Lydia, and then just slid her chair over beside her sister and held her while she cried for a man she despised. Lydia's lessons in life had been hard and painful, but Elizabeth had faith that they had been learned. She certainly hoped so, for if her husband agreed, she was going to invite her sister to Pemberley for a time.

* * *

On August 26 1812, Sarah Rose Bennet came into the world, accompanied by an entourage fit for a queen. Of course, it would be some time before she would be able to understand that her arrival had been met with two midwives who were essentially inseparable these days, her mother of course, her Aunt Lizzy, Aunt Jane, Grandmother Frog (It would take some time for the little tyke to work out why she had _so many_ grandparents), and for some reason nobody would ever be able to adequately explain, her new cousin, eight year old Amelia Bennet sitting quietly in the corner.

Mother and child were just as they should be. She had all the requisite number of fingers and toes. A quick slap proclaimed that she had the Bennet lungs, healthy as could be. A few instructions from the midwife had her eating her fill, and mother and child, aunts and midwives, uncles and grandparents were fully prepared to welcome her into the world.

In particular, her Aunt Lizzy looked down at the child with a wistful expression. Had she _really_ thought there was any chance that a mother, even as silly and ignorant as her sister had been, could part with such a child? She and Lydia had been hopelessly naïve, but in the end, Fortuna had favored them all at the bottom of their particular cliffs, and looking down at her own belly, she reflected that Samuel and Sarah would not be lonely for long.


	58. Shock Troops – Dec 2 1812

General Elizabeth Darcy surveyed the upcoming battleground, preparing to thoroughly enjoy the inevitable carnage to follow. Well, when it came right down to it, she wasn't really a general; perhaps more of the general's adjutant; or more like the genera's valet; as the brains of this campaign were really all in the capable hands of her new aunt, Countess Matlock, and the ruthless dictator of the family, Jane Bennet.

Elizabeth was quite happy to be observing this particular battle from the sidelines, as she was in no condition for extended bouts of dancing. She found that impending motherhood was actually suiting her quite well. Of course, she was not all that sanguine about the seeming hours she had spent with her head over a bucket with Lydia holding her hand while Sarah looked on with apparent amusement. No, that part had not suited at all. However, that ordeal was all over now, and other than not moving with her accustomed grace, the only thing she was really noticing out of the ordinary was that she was noticeably sillier than usual; which amused her husband to no end.

For example, she could hardly think of the group Jane was to lead into battle as anything except the B and D sisters. The unmarried Bennet sisters had in defiance of all logic, custom and even common sense, become nearly inseparable from Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana Darcy. Anne and Georgiana seemed like they must have been held under a cloud of silence since birth holding in all their words, because they were both so voluble now they could give Mr. Collins a good run if they chose to. Between them, they seemed to look at Katherine (apparently _not_ Kitty anymore) as a special project, and the three were quite inseparable. Elizabeth giggled at the last time she had joined the three. She liked to compare them to a pack of her husband's hounds, lots of noise and activity, not necessarily all sensible, but entirely lovable in every way. Her husband, well aware of her propensity for silliness, simply reached over and kissed her on the top of the head as was his usual custom. He was not in the least worried about the ladies. They had all proven their mettle, and they would settle down a little when they were good and ready to do so.

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were standing well off on the sidelines of the ballroom, where they could see but not really be seen, as neither of them were the least bit inclined to be the center of attention, or even in the periphery of the attention for that matter. This ball was all for the B and D sisters, which was as it should be. Elizabeth paid careful attention, as she knew she would be quizzed mercilessly about every detail by Amelia when she returned to Darcy House. Amelia and her brothers were to spend the spring and summer at Pemberley, before Martin went off to Eaton and thence to Cambridge. Elizabeth was sad that she would only have one season with the young man that she liked very much, and she was not at all certain she would be willing to hand the other two back to Jane's care at the end of the summer.

In six months, Jane had become the absolute and undisputed master of both Netherfield and Longbourn, and Fitzwilliam rarely had any good advice to give her anymore. She had done her lessons splendidly and took to the master's role as if born to it. Catherine had moved back to Longbourn, and was starting to take to the management of her parents care; but she spent half her time at Netherfield.

Fitzwilliam took her hand and said, "I believe the troops are massing for their assault, General."

She just chucked him under the chin and said, "Insufferable Man!"

He turned serious and said, "I am looking forward to this. I am extremely proud of _all_ my sisters right at this moment."

"As am I Fitzwilliam, As am I."

She saw the butler at the door look at the card in some perplexity, as it was quite outside of the usual custom, but not a man to be intimidated by a small departure from normal rules of propriety; he took a deep breath and intoned, "Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet, Miss Darcy, Miss Bennet and Miss Bennet!"

It had taken hours and hours to convince Lydia to join her sisters, and Elizabeth doubted she would be able to tear her away from her books again. It did not really matter, as Lydia was unlikely to carry the name of Bennet very much longer anyway; but Elizabeth wanted her to have one London ball in her life, even if she was surprisingly disinclined toward the notion. Elizabeth thought that life was unaccountably funny. Lydia would have happily killed for a London ball at one time, and would rather burn a book than read it. Now, it was the exact opposite. Perhaps, little Sarah was the catalyst; but either way, Elizabeth was quite enchanted with the new sister, and very happy to have her safely ensconced only ten miles away from Pemberley. That she could enjoy having _Lydia_ so close was a thought she would not have been capable of forming a year ago. Lydia's beau, who spent most of his wages as a clerk in the bookstore, seemed quite inclined to park himself in the bookstore permanently, and Lydia seemed like she would go along with the scheme.

Elizabeth saw the wisdom of Jane and her aunt's plan right away. They were unconventional sisters, all formidable, and all unusual, but the hints of old scandal and unconventional behavior were still floating around here and there. Plenty of the members of London society were likely to try to exploit any flaw, real or perceived for their own advancement. The only way to finally put some or all of it to rest was to bury it under a bigger, and much more interesting story, and she believed this ball would do the trick.

Elizabeth said, "Look at that. Just as predicted. Every eye in the place is trained on them! Every mouth hanging open like an ape."

A glance told the truth of the statement. Everyone, men and women alike, were staring at the group in fascination. The group of ladies was as unlike the first circle dandies as it was possible to get, and quite unrepentant about it. Their preparations had all been conducted in the strictest secrecy at Netherfield and Pemberley, and this would be the first chance those of the first circles would have see the ladies.

The ladies had all elected to wear virtually identical dresses, arrayed in all the colors of the rainbow. The dresses all had about half the lace and ornamentation as the rest of the ladies, which gave them an understated elegance most unlike the _accomplished_ ladies of the _ton_. Their hair and jewelry were similarly simple, understated and elegant. They all had solidity, character, something different from the usual attendees, and everyone could see it even if they did not understand it. Even Katherine, standing next to the formidable Jane Bennet and Anne de Bourgh need not duck her head in shame or acquiescence to anybody. She clearly did not _need_ anybody in this room, and the effect was exactly as her aunt had predicted. None of the women needed or apparently wanted any of the men in the room, and thus the men started circling them like a swarm of bees. All was exactly as it should be.

* * *

"Fitzwilliam, I'm curious. What were you discussing with the viscount, if you don't mind my asking." his wife queried a few hours later.

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked back with a grin, and answered, "I was merely giving him a little bit of advice."

Elizabeth said, "And what, might you be advising him about?"

Fitzwilliam slyly said, "I was merely advising him of the err… behaviors that would be necessary to maintain a state of health and happiness, should he elect to pursue my sister."

She said, "Why is that?"

Fitzwilliam said, "The colonel is, shall we say, the more mature of the brothers. I simply wanted a clear understanding with the man."

Elizabeth, somewhat perturbed by the discussion said, "I do not think Jane needs our protection Fitzwilliam, she is as you said, quite formidable."

Her husband looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, that she had learned meant he had managed to pull a fast one on her, and replied, "You don't understand Elizabeth. I'm not protecting Jane from the viscount… I'm protecting the viscount from Jane."

Then the insufferable man walked away laughing to the refreshments table to bring her some lemonade.", and he was still chuckling when he came back.

* * *

Elizabeth was just looking for her husband to ask to go home early, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw none other than Charles Bingley staring at her sister from across the room. As she watched him, she saw he had that same jovial expression he always carried in Meryton so many years ago… well, that one year ago. Now, she saw he looked the same as he always had, but she recognized his expression as more empty than amiable. Perhaps he was still the most amiable man of her acquaintance, other than the Moffats who occupied their own special place in the amiability pantheon, but he definitely lacked substance. He and her husband made the same mistake on the same day, but character had almost immediately turned Fitzwilliam to the proper path, while Bingley just carried on as if nothing had happened, and now he apparently believed he could just resume where he left off.

Elizabeth had not talked about him to Jane at all, and she was curious about what would happen, so she shuffled over to where she could shamelessly eavesdrop on the conversation.

Bingley approached Jane, bowed deeply and cordially, and said, "Miss Bennet, I must say you look extremely enchanting this evening."

Jane looked at him with a look that Elizabeth decided either looked like her demure look she used to carry around with her everywhere she went, or a look that said she was toying with the man. She hoped for the latter, but feared the former.

Jane said, "I thank you Mr. Bingley. What about my sisters?"

Bingley replied, "All amazingly enchanting, Miss Bennet."

Jane said nothing, apparently satisfied with letting Bingley show his manhood by continuing, and apparently having all night to wait.

Bingley said, "Miss Bennet, might I have the honor of a dance."

Jane looked at him, and said, "Let me just check my dance card, Mr. Bingley."

With that, she brought out her dance card, and Elizabeth noticed that the pair was starting to attract some attention. The rest of the B and D sisters were starting to make their way over, perhaps worrying about their Jane, maybe to show support; perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps to see the spectacle.

After looking at her dance card for a moment, Jane looked at Mr. Bingley, and said, "I can see when I will have a dance free for you, Mr. Bingley."

Looking most anxious, he asked, "Name the time, Miss Bennet."

She looked at him for a moment, and said, " _At the end of time, Mr. Bingley_ _!_ Perhaps the dance after that! Goodbye Mr. Bingley."

With that, she simply turned her back on the man, and started chatting with Georgiana Darcy, who had come up behind her, about the flower arrangements.

* * *

"Lizzy, I have to thank you for insisting I attend, but I am quite ready to go home now."

Elizabeth was in agreement, and said, "Let us find your beau and my husband and away, Lydia. Did you enjoy the dance?"

Lydia said, "Yes, I did… Once!"

Lydia looked a bit thoughtful and continued, "I cannot believe I used to obsess about things like this Lizzy. It is good to know what is real and what is imagined. This… this…", she continued waving her arms around to show the general splendor, the dancing couples, the tension in the air… and continued, "This is for Jane, here and now. I prefer my own pursuits, but I thank you for letting me see. I thank you for everything Lizzy. You and the Frogs were the making of me."

Elizabeth just hugged her sister, and bade her be quiet, as all that need be said had been. Both sisters were content. She would never have imagined it, and she could see that the rest of the sisters were well on their way to it. None of them were what they had been. They had been tested, sometimes by their own stupidity and vice, but they had survived. They had prospered. All would be well.


	59. Epilogue – October 1865

The gentleman stood on the banks of the trout stream in deep reflection, as he usually was when he returned to Pemberley. His wife and children usually left him in peace on the first day of a visit. This was the perfect spot for it, and he always took advantage of the peace and quiet when he could. It looked much like it had when he was a boy and spent so many hours here, some forty and more years gone by. The stream looked much like it had then, and he imagined when his sons came out forty years hence, it might be similar. It was not that nothing changed. He could see a tree gone here, another grown there, a bend in the stream that had changed, quite a lot of small things no doubt, and perhaps his memory was not perfect either; but the feel of the place was the same. He knew it was not eternal, but to him it felt as such.

He felt a hand on the crook of his arm, and smiling at the familiar feel, he looked down at his favorite person in the world… aside from his wife and his mother of course. He said, "Well met, Aunt Lizzy, and leaned down to kiss her right on the top of her head."

She laughed just like she always did, every time he kissed her like that since he grew tall enough to do so back when he had maybe sixteen years. He had been asking her what was so funny about that for years, but she never would answer him.

She said, "Welcome home, Samuel. I saw your wife and your mother going towards Matlock with Georgiana and Kitty, no doubt to plan our next suffrage event."

Samuel asked, "And Amelia?"

Lizzy laughed, and said, "You mean General Amelia. Who do you think is rallying the troops?"

He chuckled at that.

Lizzy laughed and added, "Your boys are off with my boys, and Lady Jane's lot, racing or hunting or shooting or whatever boys do these days. All the little ones are involved in some game in the gardens whose rules are much too complex for an old woman like me to understand."

Samuel laughed and said, "I don't know about yours, but mine are nigh-on thirty years old, and earning their own livings, Aunt. They can hardly be called boys anymore."

Elizabeth laughed at that and said, "You will all be boys to me, always and forever", but then grew a bit pensive at the mention of Lady Jane, gone these five years. She said quietly, "I miss Jane, more than I thought I might after all these years."

Samuel grew pensive, and said, "What about Uncle Fitz? How are you dealing with that, Aunt Lizzy? Do you miss him terribly as well?"

Elizabeth Darcy, smiled up at the taller gentleman who in many ways reminded her of her husband, and said, "Surprisingly enough, Samuel I do not. I thought I would. He was eight years my senior, and the reaper comes for us all, so it was no surprise when he was taken. He had nearly 80 years, after all. I thought I would miss him terribly, bitterly, every moment of every day, but I find I do not. I am quite content. It is the strangest thing."

Samuel knew that this might be a good time to learn something from his Aunt Lizzy one more time, so he just waited quietly for her to examine her own mind and her own feelings. She would talk when it was her time to talk. Of course, she was _still_ his Aunt Lizzy and her time to talk would probably not be all that long in coming.

She said, "Did you know I made the poor man wait _ten days_ after he poured his heart and soul out to me before I accepted him. We had quite a history before that. You have heard bits and pieces of it all your life. Would you like to know _why_ I do not miss him?"

Samuel allowed as there was nothing he would like more.

Elizabeth said, "Everyone in the family knows most of the story, but there were some private moments… some things not shared, but I would share them with you if you are of a mind to hear."

Samuel could barely wait for her to continue, but just nodded in acceptance.

She said, "Do you know how I laugh every time you kiss me on the top of the head?"

Samuel just nodded, and said, "Yes, I have noticed that over these thirty years, Aunt."

Elizabeth said, "Fitzwilliam and I, well… you see… we had a turning point; a moment that all of our lives pivoted around. It happened in the hayloft of the Moffat's barn, right around dawn, a few weeks after you were born. I must have sleepwalked over to his side of the loft, because I woke up lying on his chest. It would have been cripplingly scandalous at the time, but I just could _not make myself leave_. I was pondering what I really thought of the man, when… he kissed me… right on the top of the head, right in that same spot. You always remind me of that moment, and that's why I laugh."

Samuel had a laugh of his own, and said, "I am happy to have provided you with such amusement for so many years."

Elizabeth said, "One of us, I can't remember which anymore, said that they just _could not imagine_ a life without the other. Fitzwilliam could not imagine another mother for his children. I could not imagine another father. He could not imagine Pemberley without me. I could not imagine another man bouncing my children or teaching them or loving them. Neither of us could imagine a life without the other. That was when we both came to realize that our love was special… at least for the two of us. Our lots were to be cast together, whether by fate or by fortune or by random chance; our hearts had found each other, and somehow, unaccountably, they stuck together against the most formidable odds."

Samuel just reached across her shoulder and gave her a hug, which gave him a chance to surreptitiously wipe a tear from his eye.

His aunt, very much lost in her own thoughts, resumed at length, and said, "From that day until he left me three years ago, we never spent a night apart. Not a single night. We were constantly in each other's thoughts and dreams and company, no matter what else we were doing. We raised our children well, and watched proudly as they took their place in the world. We cared for our legacies, and our sisters, and our nieces and nephews. We watched all of my sisters grow and prosper and raise families of their own. We watched the three children Jane took in when they had no one and nothing grow and prosper. We helped our neighbors; we took care of our estate, we work for the poor and for justice. In all that time, we never once felt lonely. We fought like two tomcats at times, but we never lost sight of each other and our bond."

She gave a wistful smile, and said, "That is why I do not miss him as much as you might think, Samuel. He is just around every corner in Pemberley. He's sitting over there asleep against that tree pretending to fish while his nephew nearly drowns himself. He's in every book of the library we lovingly restored with Lydia and Papa Frog. I see him helping Mama Frog up the stairs in every night those last few years of her life, and mending our children's knees every day, and teaching them to ride. I can still hear him going toe to toe with Amelia on some matter of principle, even though he knew it was a lost cause before he even started. I can see him in Lydia's bookstore, arguing with her husband about the price of a book, just to help keep the man sharp. I can see him sitting quietly with your mother when we heard that the long war that took your father was finally over. I remember when the viscount was planning to ask for Jane's hand, and Fitzwilliam took the opportunity to let him know just how unhappy he would be should he fail in any way with his sister. I can see him walking Katherine down the aisle after Papa died."

Then she laughed a bit and said, "For that matter, I can see him walking Anne down the aisle in Hunsford, and Lydia in Kympton and Georgiana right here in Pemberley. The man was practically a one‑man wedding factory."

Samuel was mesmerized by the tale. It was clear enough that he could almost see his uncle lifting him up for his first ride on a horse, with his mother anxiously looking on while his Aunt Lizzy whispered in her ear.

Aunt Lizzy continued, "He is in my bed when I go to sleep, and again when I wake up. I cannot miss him, because he's not gone… not really. He took root in my heart and my soul, and my very being. I know it sounds quite mad, and I do know he's not really there, but he is such a part of me that mere death is nowhere near sufficient to uproot him. I cannot miss him, because he is still here, in my heart."

By this time, Samuel had no real hope of stopping the tears, and just let them flow freely.

His aunt, quite the woman for ponderous thoughts, but not particularly well set for melancholy, allowed the mood to remain somber for only a few moments, then brightened and said, "Enough of that!"

And with a big smile and a laugh, she said, "Do you know what we said after our shared stories, back in the hayloft, Samuel? I said, _'Perhaps, we lack imagination, William'_ , and he said, ' _We must be the two dullest people in England'_ " With that, we laughed and laughed, and my heart was well and truly lost to the man. I have never regretted its loss.

They stood together in silence and just watched the stream flow by, and the trout taunt them, and Lizzy said, "Tell me a story Samuel! Something you never told me before."

At that moment, Samuel Wolcott knew the exact story that was required to go along with this one, and began.

"All right, Aunt. My story happened right here, nearly on this spot, around thirty years ago. Perhaps you heard it from your husband, but I think not."

He took her by the arm and led her over to an old fallen log, and bade her rest there for a few minutes, while he looked around carefully.

He continued with a gesture, "Uncle Norman was sitting right on that rock, having a losing battle with the stream. I think Aunt Georgiana was about six months along and not feeling much like fishing."

Elizabeth laughed at that. She could well remember being about that far along at Jane's first ball, watching the men circle her and her spiritual sisters like a swarm of bees. She was lost to the memories for a moment, and Samuel just let her reminisce. She well remembered the five women, three Bennets, a Darcy and a de Bourg made quite the splash. With a shake, she came back to herself, and said, "My apologies, Samuel, please continue."

He smiled at her, and continued, "Uncle Fitz was sitting right over there, and the ambassador was sitting right where you are, mostly boasting about how he helped burn down the Capital in Washington during the war, only to be welcomed back with open arms as ambassador three years later. He was most amused by the tale, and Aunt Mary may have been as well… the first thirty or forty times."

Elizabeth laughed. Mary the fierce had turned quite motherly over the few years in the Canadas, and came back quite a formidable and elegant woman, the perfect mix of the old world and the new. Everyone just loved her in London's power circles. The Fitzwilliams had done quite well.

Samuel continued, "I was feeling all the massive weight of my eighteen years, so I asked them, _"How do you know when you have found the_ _one_ _? And what do you do about it?"_

Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Foolish boy, you should have asked a woman."

He laughed along with her and said, "That's what Uncle Norman said. He told us he fell in love with Aunt Georgiana when they were both sixteen, but he was a poor tradesman with not much hope of attracting such a lady. Aunt Jane was just Jane Bennet then. It was the day after that famous debacle with your father in his library…"

Lizzy snorted, and said, "Lydia still hasn't forgiven her for the damage he did to some of those first editions. She was quite incensed when she and Sarah first went back to Longbourn for a visit. I could practically hear her berating Jane from here."

Samuel agreed with a smile, and said, "Yes, Aunt Lydia does take her books seriously. It's no wonder her shop is doing so well all these years, but I digress. Apparently, Aunt Jane told him to just be nice to her. To be her friend. To allow whatever developed between them to develop in it's own time; and you can see that it was just the right thing to do."

Elizabeth said, "I see. At least he had the good sense to listen to Jane. And was there general concurrence among the other gentlemen?"

With a snort, Samuel said, "Hardly! Both thought the approach too timid by at least half, although perhaps likely to work in certain circumstances, and probably for the best for Norman."

Elizabeth replies, "Yes, Sir Norman has no cause to repine. No cause at all! So what did these paragons of sense and good virtue recommend?"

Samuel replied, "The ambassador said, ' _I poured my heart out to my lady, and gave her ten minutes to make a decision to last the rest of her life. That worked for me.'"_

Elizabeth thought that was amusing, and said, "That may have been a bit of an exaggeration?"

Samuel said, "You do remember we are talking about the ambassador here? Of course it was an exaggeration, but it held a kernel of truth. He had to make a decision _that day_ or lose his chance. He followed his heart, even though by his own admission, it was only half to three quarters engaged. They moved the rest of the way together."

Elizabeth said, "Did he actually say that?"

Samuel looked at her conspiratorially, and said, "The scout's truth, Aunt!"

Elizabeth chucked him on the shoulder and said, "You _have_ spent too much time with that scoundrel."

Samuel said, "Are you the least bit curious about what your husband said?"

"I'm dying to know!"

Samuel said, "Well, he replied first in answer to the primary question. He said, ' _When it is the right woman, you will_ _know_ _. You will know it in every fiber of your being. If you do not_ _know_ _, then it's not the right woman. Do not over complicate it.'"_

Elizabeth said, "He always was one for grand pronouncements, right or wrong. However, in his case he was right. Of course, at the time I despised him, so the same principle would not have worked in reverse."

Samuel said, "Yes, I had heard the legend, even back then. But then he walked up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it hard as he always did when he wanted me to _really_ listen, and said, ' _What are you leaving out, Samuel? Do you_ _know_ _right now?"_

I admitted to him that I just might, but I had only seen the woman a half-dozen times in my life, so I could not be sure.

Elizabeth asked breathlessly, "What happened next?"

Samuel continued, "Uncle Fitz said, ' _When I_ _knew_ _, I spent half a year stalking your aunt like a madman. Then I proposed to her in the common room of an inn when we were both exhausted after four days of travel night and day, and right after we both learned your Aunt Jane was entirely missing with three strange children. Then I threatened to stalk her for the rest of her life if she rejected me. The whole thing was mad as could be. It was really not gentlemanly in the least; but she_ _did_ _come to understand my heart, and she gave me a chance to earn hers."_

Then he said the most extraordinary thing, Aunt. He said, _"Here is what I know Samuel. Fortune sometimes rewards the bold and sometimes she punishes them, but do you know what she does to the meek? To those who do not strive?"_

I owned that I did not, and he said, _"_ _Absolutely nothing_ _. If you risk nothing, you gain nothing. In the end, Fortuna may assist you or may hinder you, but you can only find out which if you are_ _in_ _the arena. Norman used his innate kindness to win his love, but he stood the chance of watching her go to a flashier or bolder or wealthier man while he stood timidly by, but that was his gamble and it fit his nature. Fitzwilliam gambled that his Mary would accept him with no time to think about it, and might have lost that which he could have gained by waiting a few months to try more cautiously. I threw all of my cards in the table with a grand declaration of love that was at the time as likely to send my Lizzy screaming from the room as accepting it. That was my roll of the dice, my bargain with the goddess."_

Samuel continued, "At that point, my head was swimming. Then Uncle Fitz pulled me over to that spot right over here and did exactly like this."

With that, Samuel took a stick about a foot long and drew a rough map of Southern England, saying, "Uncle Fitz drew it just like this, and then he broke the stick in half just like so…"

He demonstrated the move and then poked one end in the general area of Derbyshire, and continued the story, "Then he took the other half, and showing that I wasn't quite as clever as I thought, stuck it right in the middle of Devon and said, " _Explain to me then young Samuel, why this half of the stick is here in Derbyshire, and the other half is there in Devon? Do you think this stick is acting with boldness? Is Fortuna likely to favor it? Is it better off broken than it was when whole? Is it likely to_ _ever_ _truly know its heart from 400 miles?"_

Elizabeth loved the story, and having known little Emma since the day she sat on her lap in the Moffat's dinner table, she well knew the outcome; but had never heard this story. Her husband had apparently thought this to be men's business, and never shared it… or more likely, he knew it was Samuel's story to tell in his own good time. Whatever the reason, the story only made her love both of them even more.

She breathlessly said, "What else did he say? Was there more?"

Samuel looked sheepish, and said, "I didn't hear most of the rest, since I was running towards the stables."

She asked, "Did you hear anything at all?"

He grinned at his aunt, and said, "Yes, one last thing."

Uncle Fitz yelled at me as I was halfway to the house.

 _"_ _Fortune favors the bold Samuel. Follow your heart! Roll the dice_ _."_

 _~~ Finis ~~_

* * *

 _A/N: Well, my friends, this story comes to an end as all stories must. It has been a wild and admittedly at times bumpy ride along the way, and I hope you have enjoyed it. I must thank everyone who sent suggestions, and discussions, and reviews, favs, PMs, all the things that let us authors know that we're connecting with you, our readers. Like all writers, I love to hear from you and truly appreciate every message._

 _I'll probably take a little break, but I have at least three other stories in various stages of construction, so I'll be back soon._

 _Wade_


End file.
